


Firelord Rising

by GeneralSan_3, Starts_with_a_D



Series: The Adventures of Avatar Merlin [1]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Airbending & Airbenders, Angst and Feels, Bending (Avatar), Bloodbending, Dysfunctional Family, Earthbending & Earthbenders, F/M, Firebending & Firebenders, Gen, Hope, Lightningbending, Love Triangles, Non Benders, Plantbending, Rebellion, Spirit Traveling, Spirit World, Spiritbending, Waterbending & Waterbenders, lavabending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2018-08-23 19:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 98,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8340364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneralSan_3/pseuds/GeneralSan_3, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starts_with_a_D/pseuds/Starts_with_a_D
Summary: Ex-Prince Arthur hides away in the Earth Kingdom, watching as Firelord Morgana prepares to take over all four nations. He doesn’t plan on interfering and getting himself killed, until a disgruntled firebender shows up to give him the hope he needs.





	1. The Man in the Chimney

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GeneralSan_3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneralSan_3/gifts).



> While recently re-watching Avatar/LOK and Merlin, I realized how perfectly these two shows fit together . . . this story was born. I hope you enjoy! I am also posting this on FF.net.

_Firelord Rising_

_Air. Water. Earth. Fire._

Five years ago, the four nations lived in fear of Firelord Uther and his anti-bending regime. But then, everything changed when the firebender Morgana overthrew his oppressive reign, killed him, and took his throne. Far from bringing peace to the world, Morgana proved herself to be a worse tyrant than Uther by conquering the Earth Kingdom using the power of Sozin’s Comet, and now her eyes are turning towards the other two nations. Backed by a seemingly unstoppable army, where is the hope in defeating her?

In this time of war and land of fear, the destiny of four nations rests on the shoulders of two young men. Their names? Merlin and Arthur.

Some may have lost hope, but I believe they can save the world.

 

* * *

 

Chimney sweep had always been a lowly and unwanted job, even before the Fire Nation attacked. No one in Ba Sing Se wanted to climb the smelly, sooty chimneys and sweep and scrape and clean out the wretched ashes amid the fumes. It was a dark, menial job, one that earthbenders refused to lower themselves too, even though they could have gotten it done in about five seconds.

Arthur liked the job. It _was_ menial, but menial meant that no one looked at him or cared about him. Menial meant safe. Even if it was something looked down on, even if his skin and hair turned dark like the ash, it made him fit in: blond hair wasn’t a common sight in the Earth Kingdom, but within a few weeks no one gave him a second glance. Everyday, he woke up and ate a menial breakfast and went to his menial job and then returned home to his menial apartment.

He’d had a lot of pride and fight in him, back in the day. That was mostly gone.

All his needs were supplied by a tiny shop just a few streets from where he lived. He went there almost every day after work to buy food and other necessities.

One day, as he ducked out of the shop with his meagre supplies, Arthur spied a few Fire Nation soldiers coming down the lane, red flashing among the green and brown, pikes glinting fiery in the sun. His heart seemed to freeze for a second, and he quickly ducked into the blacksmith’s right next door to the shop. When Arthur had first come to Ba Sing Se, he had been so careful not to stand out and be suspicious that he hadn’t dared make sudden moves like that, but soon realized that everyone did that when soldiers came near; it wasn’t a suspicious move at all.

The blacksmith, Elyan, was at the forge as usual, using metalbending to finish a sword. He did not spare Arthur much of a glance: coming into the shop and admiring the fine crafting was the only bit of unusual activity Arthur allowed himself, and he counted Elyan and his sister, Gwen, as two of his only friends. Both of the siblings helped with the smithing, but since Gwen had a better hand and eye for detail and not much mastery of metalbending, she supplemented their income by making clay pots. Arthur had sat by her one day as she bent the clay out of the container and molded it and shaped it and sent it into the kiln to fire. Compared to the quick, sharp, hard movements of most earthbenders, hers had been smooth and so gentle. He admired her a lot for that gentleness.

“You looking for Gwen?” Elyan asked curiously, leaning a little out of the smithy door. Arthur tore his eyes away from the earthenware-lined walls and shook his head.

“Um, no, just needed to get off the street for a moment,” he said. The Fire Nation soldiers took that moment to march by, and Elyan’s mouth thinned.

“Right,” he nodded, understanding. “Don’t want to get in their way.” He turned back to his work and gave a particularly violent slice with his hand that nearly snapped the sword in half under the weight of his bending. “Those soldiers walk around this city like they own it! Like it doesn’t rightly belong to us Earthpeople!”

Arthur was by the door, watching the soldiers as they turned a corner; only then did he relax. “They do own it, Elyan. They fought for it, and they won it.”

“Hey, don’t give me that talk, Arthur! You know all the Fire Nation is made up of nothing but thieves and liars!”

Arthur did not react to this statement.

“That Firelord sitting up there in her flaming throne is going to get what is coming to her someday, you mark my words. Us Earthpeople won’t just sit by and wait forever. We’ll rise up.”

Gwen appeared in the back door of the smithy. “Elyan, are you having delusions of grandeur again?”

Elyan stuck his chin out at her. “Nah, this is real talk. I just know we’re going to be free someday. I’ll help with any uprising.”

Gwen shook her head fondly, then went out into the shop to stand by Arthur, putting a hand on his arm. “Don’t you listen to him, Arthur! We all know there’s not a prayer of defeating the Firelord Morgana---not unless we have the Avatar on our side.”

Arthur’s mouth thinned a little more, but all he said was, “I had better be going,” as if rousing himself from a deep sleep. “Thanks for the temporary retreat, Elyan. I’ll see you tomorrow, Guinevere.” He smiled down at her kind eyes. She blushed a little, just as she always did when he used her full name. He loved seeing that little blush.

The street outside was busy that time of day, as everyone was finishing their day of work and were heading home or buying supplies for dinner. Arthur did not give anyone a second glance as he strode through the masses towards his apartment.

Something prickled at the back of his neck, and he turned without thinking. Back over by the smithy, a Fire Nation soldier was standing very still amid the chaos of green- and brown-clad Earthpeople. He wore a helmet, but Arthur felt sure he was the one being watched. The soldier’s companion was at one of the street stalls, buying vegetables. He seemed oblivious to his partner’s intense interest.

For a moment, Arthur and the soldier locked eyes, then Arthur ducked his head and turned away, suppressing a shudder. There were any number of reasons why that soldier might have been looking at him, he tried to convince himself as he continued his walk. It did not have to be anything potentially dangerous. What troubled Arthur most was the glimpse of a patch he had seen on the soldier’s right shoulder; patches could mean a few things in the Fire Nation army, but the most recent addition to that number, and the most likely, was a patch that Morgana had added. A patch given to firebenders.

He took the long way home, looking every which way so that he was not followed.

* * *

Gwen accosted him outside the shop on his way home the next day. “Arthur, I was hoping to find you today!” she said brightly, grinning. “We, uh, well, how has your day been?”

“Tiring, as always, but at least I had work,” Arthur responded, feeling quite incapable of not smiling back as she slipped her arm through his. “You?”

She turned and started walking, so he followed her into the shop. “Quite good, I made a lot of new pots. I have a new design I’ve been working on, but it’s experimental, so I shan’t show you yet! It’s always good to see you, Arthur, but Elyan did want to talk to you about cleaning the chimney again . . .”

The smithy’s chimney was very dirty, as was to be expected, but Arthur had definitely seen worse in his five years of working as a sweep.

“I’ll do the usual job,” he said. “Put some salt on your fire tomorrow morning to clear some of the creosote away, and I’ll come in the afternoon and scrap what’s left. I don’t expect it will take more than one visit.”

Elyan shrugged. “Even if it did, wouldn’t matter. A working forge is essential for a blacksmith, and I can’t have the chimney dirty. Since the invasion, it’s been really hard for business, and I think it’s going to get worse for the next bit, what with all the extra soldiers that Firelord is flying in---”

Arthur’s insides lurched. “What, _extra_ soldiers?” he asked incredulously. Elyan nodded, looking stern but earnest.

“They’ve brought in a few more airships, just in the last day or two. I even heard she sent over a couple firebenders! I haven’t seen one of those since the invasion! They’re gearing up for something, I just don’t know what. I wish I could show them what was what, but I’ve got my family here that I need to take care of, I can’t just go rushing off to be a hero.”

“No, of course not,” Arthur agreed, not really listening.

Bringing reinforcements into Ba Sing Se? This hadn’t happened in years. The occupying force had gradually gone down in the years since the invasion, and Arthur had not heard any rumors of rebellion recently. Why would Morgana be sending more soldiers in? What was her plan now? He thought about the soldier he had seen the day before. If he was right, and that _had_ been a firebending patch, that man had probably come in with this new batch; firebenders were a rare sight anywhere outside the Fire Nation capital these days.

After talking through the last little details and agreeing on a price, Arthur set out for home, lugging his groceries again. He was lost in thought. He knew that if there were more Fire Nation soldiers running around, he would have to be extra careful; it wasn’t likely that any of them would recognize him---he didn’t think even Morgana would recognize him at this point---but he could take no chances. He could not go back to the Fire Nation and face everything that had happened there.

His mind churned as he walked the familiar path to his tiny apartment, and he felt as if he could not notice everything around him quickly enough. At this point, five years after his escape from the Fire Nation, the reinforcements probably were not here because he had been found, but Arthur hadn’t survived this long by being negligent. He would have to be extra careful for the next couple weeks, just to be sure he had not been found.

Arthur lived at the back of a crowded and despondent neighborhood where other crushed and impoverished individuals lived. It was not the greatest environment, but the rent was about all he could afford with his menial salary. His neighbor Valiant was sitting outside on the veranda as Arthur came up, crooning to one of his enormous snakes. He made a sidelong cutting remark at the chimney sweep as Arthur inserted the key into the lock, but Arthur ignored him; he had dealt with too many unpleasant people like Valiant to feel any need to fight back.

Home was one room, with a tiny bed and a tinier desk littered with Arthur’s meager possessions. The walls were very thin and the window wouldn’t close properly, letting in a constant flow of dusty, smelly air. Arthur did not flinch as a couple roaches scuttled past his foot, but he did let out a sigh of resignation. He could remember a time when he would not have considered stepping into a room like this, let alone sleeping there, but, just like for everyone else in the world, everything had changed when Morgana attacked. Now his only thought was to keep himself safe and secure in this small existence he had. It was the only purpose he had left in life.

He sighed again, and began making dinner. It was not until he had sat down with his noodles and soup that he noticed something was off.

The window---that had never closed properly, ever, in all his time here---was completely shut. Arthur stared at it, dumbfounded. How had that happened? When he had left this morning, everything was normal; the chill morning mist was creeping in through an inch-wide crack between window and sill. What had changed?

Arthur stood and examined it. Everything seemed in order, but he could see no explanation for why his window was suddenly working again.

Unless . . . someone had been in his apartment while he was gone. Someone who had a managed to get it shut.

But who?

For a moment, Arthur’s breathing came shallow and fast as he considered possibilities. Then, slowly, unhurriedly, he walked to the door and peeked out into the night. At first glance, everything seemed normal: little children screaming upstairs, clothes flapping on the drying line, stray dogs picking through the trash heaps---

\---and two dark figures whispering to each other in the shadows. Secretive.

Arthur watched, hardly breathing. One was Valiant, he was sure of it; he would recognize that arrogant, snake-like posture anywhere. The other one . . .

Tall, maybe Arthur’s height, but thin. Very thin. Arthur could not tell what the other man looked like in the shadows, but he could see a bit of his right arm and shoulder. He could see the patch sewn onto the black sleeve, the one with a black background and red flames.

Arthur silently closed the door and slid down to sit in front of it. He did not sleep that night.

* * *

The next morning was rough. One of his least-favorite customers needed to have a chimney swept, and he spent most of the morning scrunched into the tight space, listening as the owner critiqued everything he did. Arthur found himself wondering what would have happened if he hadn’t learned to develop a thick skin here in the Earth Kingdom. Earthpeople did not really do subtlety; it was all up front and center, which was not what Arthur had grown up around. He managed to make it through the cleaning session having made only one smart comment, even if his eardrums felt a little overused. After sitting on the curb and downing his little lunch and water, squinting in the bright sun, Arthur set out to the blacksmith’s. At least he would have one part of his day go right.

He should have knocked on wood.

As he reached just a couple streets away, he looked up and saw something that made his heart squeeze - the two Fire Nation soldiers he had seen from before were standing at the end of the street. The taller, broad-shouldered one looked up for a second as Arthur came into his line of sight, then continued with his animated conversation. Arthur could not run now; he would have to bluff it out. Walking like he was a simple chimney sweep without a care in the world, his wire sweep slung over his shoulder, he walked past the pair. The taller one kept talking, but out of the corner of his eye, Arthur could see the skinny one watching him.

Resisting the urge to either make a smart comment or run, Arthur turned at the corner and continued on to the smithy. He could feel eyes watching him all the way down.

He inspected Gwen’s pots on the outside of the shop, trying to calm himself. _I don’t know what he’s doing, but he can’t have recognized you. He cannot have recognized you. You have changed so much you don’t even recognize_ yourself _. There is no way he could have---_

“Hello,” came a voice from behind him.

The soldier had removed his helmet, and Arthur could now see that he was a very young man, probably younger than Arthur himself, with dark hair and inquisitive blue eyes. He looked too skinny to be a soldier of any kind, except that Arthur knew he was the firebender he had seen the past two days. The other soldier was nowhere to be seen. Panic shot through him from his head to his toes. Almost five years of hiding, and he was going to be outed by a gawky boy?

He forced himself to stay calm and respond as a real Earth Kingdom citizen might.

“What do you want, soldier?” he snapped, folding his arms.

The soldier blinked. “Come now, friend, I just have a couple questions to ask you.”

“Do I know you?” Arthur asked, turning his back again.

“No,” the young man replied, laughing a little. “We’ve never met, I’m sure. ”

“And yet you call me your friend,” Arthur said stiffly, looking at the other man. The young man shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable, but smiling again.

“Just trying to diffuse the tension,” he replied. “I just, uh, well, I used to live in the Fire Nation, you know! And I thought you looked a bit like someone I---”

“Are you saying I look like someone from the Fire Nation?” Arthur said in a dangerous voice. “Because I wouldn’t like to think you were saying that. You may think you own this country, _firebender_ , but this is our turf.” He scoffed and turned away. “Saying I’m like you . . . As if you could insult me or my country any more.” His heart was pounding fiercely, because what if he had been recognized? What if this skinny young man did know who he really was? The glint in his eye, the quiet watching, the conversation with Valiant, all certainly suggested that.

The firebender’s eyes narrowed, and he looked about to give a heated retort, but Elyan stuck his head out of the smithy door.

“Hey, Arthur! This man bothering you?” He gave the Fire Nation soldier a look of hearty dislike.

Arthur could have hit him, because the soldier had a look that said Elyan had just told him everything he needed to know; it was times like this that Arthur wished he had had the forethought to use a fake name when he first escaped to the Earth Kingdom.

He took a deep breath to calm himself, and smiled tightly. “No, Elyan, we’re fine. Listen, I’ll have to come back later, but I’ll finish cleaning that chimney for you.”

He turned back to the Fire Nation soldier, who was watching the exchange with his eyebrows pulled together. “You’re a chimney sweep?” the young man said, looking confused.

Arthur put his hand firmly on his shoulder. “Why don’t we go for a little walk, and maybe afterwards you’ll understand about life here a little better, eh?” He started to lead the firebender down the street, his heart sinking lower with every step he took. Elyan was watching him go with a worried expression, which was just as well; Arthur knew what he had to do to keep his secret.

He would have to kill the firebender.


	2. Trained to Kill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ex-Prince Arthur hides away in the Earth Kingdom, watching as Firelord Morgana prepares to take over all four nations. He doesn’t plan on interfering and getting himself killed, until a disgruntled firebender shows up to give him the hope he needs.

Arthur pushed the dangerous firebender down the road, wracking his brain for ideas. It was not the committing murder part he was worried about (he told himself), but how to do it without being caught. Firebenders were rare, and this one was sure to be missed, especially if he had told his partner about Arthur. If Arthur was not careful, he would be going from the frying pan into the _literal_ fire. First course of action would be to find someplace closeby where no one would bother them, and then he would have to . . .

Oblivious to Arthur’s internal struggle, his companion tried to make smalltalk.

“If you are actually interested in talking to me, you should probably know my name. I’m Merlin, and I am _very_ pleased to meet you!”

“I’ll bet you are,” Arthur muttered. He had thought of a place just a corner away where they would not be disturbed, and he began leading Merlin there ( _What kind of name is that, anyway?_ ).

“Listen, you really don’t have to be scared of me,” the young man earnestly told him. “I don’t want to hurt you or your friends, I just---”

“I don’t really care, I just want to know why you’re so interested in me.” He was starting to think this boy had an actual, serious mental condition.

Merlin gave him an incredulous look. “You can _really_ drop the ‘I don’t know why everyone is following me’ act; I already know who you are. I thought you’d gotten that by now.”

They had arrived at an abandoned shop and house in the middle of a deserted street. Arthur remembered it because he had slept in here, both before he had money for his own apartment and the few times he had felt like someone was following him. Made up mostly of one large room, scattered with dirt and broken detritus, it was not a place most people paid attention to, and Arthur knew the walls were thick.

“And who, might I ask, do you think I am?” Arthur said, pushing Merlin through the doorway into the dusty, abandoned room beyond.

Merlin turned around and regarded his would-be murderer with an almost proud look. “You’re the Fire Prince. Prince Arthur. The heir to the throne of the Fire Nation.”

Arthur’s heart seemed to simultaneously leap and sink. So, he had not been wrong about what this boy knew. There was nothing for it---he would have to go through with his plan.

“So, _Mer_ lin, I suppose you know, being a firebender and soldier and all that, just how _dangerous_ that bit of information is?”

“Of course I do!” Merlin replied hotly. He did not seem to notice how Arthur was slowly closing in, boxing him closer and closer to the wall, where there was no escape . . . “That’s why I’ve kept it a secret! I mean, Morgana discovered you were in Ba Sing Se, and we found out where you lived, but I never told anyone that I saw you! Not even my partner. I had to shake him off in order to come back for you. If he knew . . . well, he’s a good enough man, but he’d turn you in straight away. I had to be very quiet and secret about this.”

“So you’re the only one who noticed me? Are you sure?”

“Positive. You do look different than in your portrait, but I have an eye for detail.”

“Well, this will make everything a lot easier then, won’t it?” Arthur said. Merlin cocked his head to one side, and then an awful look of comprehension came into his eyes.

“Oh,” Merlin said, as if Arthur’s true purpose had only just dawned on him. “Oh . . . you’re going to kill me now, aren’t you? That’s why you brought me here.”

Arthur smiled tightly. “Yes,” he said simply, and started to stalk forward. He did not need a weapon; he’d been trained to kill since birth.

Merlin’s eyes widened, and he backed away. “Whoa, Arthur, don’t do this! I am not your enemy!”

“Then why have you been following me, watching me? Why do you wear the uniform of the Fire Nation? I’ve been hiding for too long. You should have realized that any threat to my secrecy has to end in a swift execution.”

“That’s what you call this?” Merlin asked incredulously, still backing away; he was almost to the wall. “Murdering me in an empty house without even hearing what I’ve got to say? Wow, you are really living up to your father’s memory, aren’t you, Arthur Pendragon!”

This pulled Arthur up short for a second, and then he attacked without warning, throwing himself towards the younger man. Merlin gave a squeak and brought his hand up to defend himself. As Arthur expected, a spurt of red flames erupted from Merlin’s hand, but that was no problem---the prince dodged easily. His opponent then tried sending out twin scything blasts of fire, dodging to the side to get around Arthur, but Arthur leapt up and over the first ring, then ducked down low to avoid the next. All of the breath in Merlin went out with a _WHUMP_ as the Fire Prince barreled into his stomach. His head cracked painfully against the earthen floor, and there ensued an intense but brief struggle as Merlin attempted to push Arthur off of him. He failed miserably.

Dazed and confused as the firebender was, it was not hard for Arthur to wrap his hands around Merlin’s neck and proceed to choke the life out of him. Merlin only had the strength for a single flame, but Arthur batted his hand away easily. This gave Merlin one breath:

“Please!” he wheezed. “Annis---help!”

Arthur considered this in a dispassionate sort of way. What sort of Fire Nation soldier put out the Earth Queen’s name in his last breath? Why would he say he was not Arthur’s enemy, as he clearly wore the uniform of Morgana’s soldiers? He was a firebender, the enemy his father had always taught him about, the danger Arthur had been hiding from for five years. He felt all his anger and frustration with the Fire Nation swell up inside of him, concentrated down on this young man whose struggles were slowly getting weaker and weaker and weaker beneath Arthur’s hands.

As he watched his victim’s pale fingers unclench from their death-grip on Arthur’s wrists, the Fire Prince felt all that anger and hate drain out of him as if someone had pulled a plug to release the bathwater. Arthur thought about how young Merlin was, about how he had probably been forced to leave the Fire Nation when he was just a child. Arthur thought about how he had never had friends his own age when he lived in the Fire Nation. He had noticed this at the time, but it had not been until Morgana had thrown him in the dungeons that he had found out why.

_“I wish I could trust you, Arthur; you’ve always been so kind to me. But I know, in the end, you’re going to follow right in your father’s footsteps.”_

He released his grip and got to his feet suddenly, his stomach churning. Merlin fell back against the floor with a gasp, clutching his throat. For several minutes neither said anything, Merlin struggling for breath and Arthur struggling with himself.

“I’m not saying I believe you,” Arthur said quietly, barely making himself heard over Merlin’s labored coughing, “but I’m willing to hear you out. You can see that you’re not really a threat to me, so don’t plan on double-crossing me.”

The young firebender looked up at him, obviously wondering what had caused this change. “Where---” he started to rasp, then coughed painfully several times before continuing. “Where did you learn to overcome firebenders like that?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Arthur snapped. “What matters is why you are here and what you want from me.” Merlin nodded, making a concentrated effort to stand. After that failed, he shifted until he was against the wall.

“Um, right.” He stopped, looking a little confused. “Where do I even start?”

“How about how you knew where to find me?” Arthur said testily. Merlin gave him an irritated look.

“Firelord Morgana received intelligence that you could be found in Ba Sing Se, so I took my chance and volunteered for the job. I’ve had my doubts about Morgana for a long time, and having my own sources about _your_ character, I thought I’d take my chances and seek you out.”

“Who betrayed me?” Arthur asked. “Who told her I was here?”

Merlin shook his head. “I don’t know. We were never told. Whoever it is, they sent us to your neighbor Valiant. He told us what he knew about you: that you were a chimney sweep, came here four or so years ago, spent most of your spare time with the blacksmiths, and treated him like he wasn’t worth the dirt on your boots.”

Arthur’s lip curled. “He’s not.”

Merlin tried to laugh, and ended up choking a bit. “Anyway, we wanted to be absolutely sure---Morgana does not tolerate botched-up jobs---so we haven’t even sent in our report by message-hawk yet. I’ve managed to misdirect everyone so far, but I don’t know how much longer that’s going to work. I’m not a great actor. Pretty sure the only reason I’ve gotten away with it so far is because everyone believes me to be supremely innocent and naive. Eventually I’m going to be found out.”

“Trust me, you _are_ supremely innocent and naive,” Arthur told him dryly.

Merlin glared. “Are you always such a prat to people you’ve almost murdered?”

Arthur gave him a quelling look, and then was silent for several moments, mulling it all over, before he spoke again. “Alright, you’ve answered how you found me. Now what do you plan to do with that knowledge?”

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “Can’t you even guess?”

The answer as to why a firebender with doubts about Morgana had sought Arthur out was so obvious that it was pretty much a given, but Arthur was tired, so he just shrugged.

Merlin squared his shoulders. “We’re going to overthrow Firelord Morgana and get you your throne back.”

The urge to strangle this boy again came over Arthur, but he restrained it. For a moment they looked at each other, hope and eagerness in Merlin’s eyes, with Arthur feeling bleak and annoyed.

Arthur lifted his head until he almost felt like a prince again. “No,” he told Merlin firmly. Then turned on his heel and walked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably mention that I will be updating this almost daily until I catch up to what I have posted on FF.net. Then updates will be slowing down so I don't post more than I write. Thank you all for reading and I hope you are liking this story!


	3. The Earth Queen

Arthur was already outside by the time Merlin even attempted to stand. His throat and head hurt abominably, and it took a couple tries to get his shaky legs to work. Great blithering badgermoles, but that Fire Prince packed a punch!

Merlin staggered to the door and croaked a weak “Wait!” at the retreating figure. Arthur did not slow down, so Merlin had to run a little to catch up. “Wait up, you dollophead! I can hardly breathe right now, so slow down.” Arthur’s shoulders only stiffened a little. “What did you mean, ‘No’?”

The prince rolled his eyes. “Do you have an insufficient grasp of the English language? ‘No’ means ‘ _No’_.”

Merlin deflated. “You mean . . . you mean you won’t help? I thought for sure, after everything, you would want support. It’s your throne, after all.”

He flinched a little when Arthur gave him a look that said he was seriously considering finishing what he had started in that abandoned building. “My mistake, I suppose,” Merlin muttered. “But you can’t ignore the fact that Morgana knows where you are now, and she’s looking for you. I won’t tell the other soldiers where to find you, but you can’t go back to your old life.”

“So I’ll create a new one,” Arthur snapped. “I’ve done it before. I’ll shed this job, this name, this life, this city, and I’ll go somewhere else. I’m _become_ someone else. That’s the way it has to be.”

Merlin jumped in front of Arthur, halting his steps just as they came to the corner near the smithy. “Or, you could stop hiding. Reclaim your birthright. Bring the nations to peace again!” He could not understand why Arthur would reject this chance. Merlin was not much of a soldier, but he had worked closely with the Firelord and knew a lot of her secrets. And he was a gifted firebender when he wasn’t taken by surprise . . . or attacked by vengeful princes . . . or, well, he was young still! “The other rulers will stand by you to take down Morgana. Annis, Olaf---maybe not Cendred, but he’s too far away to do much. The Air Nomads. If we all work together, we can bring her down!”

Arthur looked frustrated. “Why are you so intent on getting _me_ ?” he demanded. “Why don’t _you_ become the next Firelord, if you’re so keen on bringing her down?”

Merlin was horrified. “Me, Firelord? The Fire Nation wouldn’t last a day! But we can’t just take her on without a clear leader. That would leave a power vacuum that no one needs right now. I’ve heard say that you’re---”

Arthur obviously did not care what Merlin had heard, because he pushed past him roughly and continued on. Merlin was about to make a heated remark, but the next second Arthur had thrown himself right back around the corner, his eyes wide.

“Fire Nation soldiers,” he said stiffly. “Outside the smithy!” Merlin peeked around the corner for a second; sure enough, there were two red- and black-clad guards standing outside the forge.

Arthur suddenly launched himself forward again, and Merlin, panicked, pushed him back with the little strength he had.

“What are you _doing_?” he gasped, slowly losing ground. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Gwen and Elyan are in there!” Arthur growled, redoubling his efforts.

“No---Arthur---let _me_ go! You can’t help them if you get yourself captured!”

This seemed to get through to Arthur, and he stopped struggling, slumping back against the wall. His eyes were wide and fearful. Merlin had thought nothing could make this man more dangerous than the thought of being taken back to the Fire Nation, but apparently he really was quite close to the two blacksmiths. “I’ll go and talk to them,” Merlin repeated. “I’m probably missed anyway. I had thought we were going to get a bit more evidence first, but if they’ve decided to make a move, you’d better hide somewhere. Where will you go?”

Arthur took a deep breath. “Back to that same building where I took you. It won’t be safe for much longer, but it’s the closest place I can think of.”

Merlin nodded, and turned to go, but Arthur stopped him, looking a little awkward. “You, um, have bruises.” He gestured at Merlin’s neck, and Merlin felt the tender skin. “You might want to cover that up.”

Merlin grinned, and pulled out a well-worn red handkerchief out of his pouch, and arranged it around his neck. “Better?” he asked, and the prince nodded. “Be safe. I’ll find you later.”

The guards on post nodded respectfully at Merlin as he passed, and as he expected, his partner, Thomas, was inside. Thomas and another guard were inspecting papers in the back by the forge. “Merlin!” Thomas cried. “Where have you been? You’ve been gone a while.”

“Following up on the sweeper tip Valiant gave me,” Merlin said. “Got nothing, of course. What’s going on here? I thought we had agreed to wait on the blacksmiths.”

“A message hawk came today; the Firelord is impatient for news.” Thomas shook his head, and his shaggy, dark hair swung. “We just came in to ask a few questions, the normal routine, but then the girl denied having ever seen someone matching Arthur’s description, and the Dai Li agent said she was lying. So I decided to have them taken down to the prison for now. I was about to go and talk to them, after we get this mess sorted out. You coming?”

Merlin thought quickly. One of the blacksmiths had seen him with Arthur, and his head would be on a plate if Thomas found out. He had to find a way to talk to them alone.

“Actually, um, why don’t you stay here and see if the Fire Prince comes back?” he suggested. “Valiant suggested he visits after work a lot, so maybe he’ll come. I’ll talk to the earthbenders.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Why you?”

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re a lot more menacing than I am . . .” Merlin teased, smiling. “Maybe they’ll talk if they feel less threatened.”

The other firebender rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’ll finish searching through here and then report to the Earth Queen. She’s not happy we’re arresting her citizens, but I don’t think she dares cross the Firelord.”

Merlin nodded vaguely, looking around the shop and forge. It was fairly small and cramped, standard Earth Kingdom fare. After almost two years living in the Fire Nation he had found himself missing the plain simplicity of this country. He had never really fit in much, being a firebender, but it had been his home for over twenty years.

Now the people hated him, because of what Morgana had done.

He was going to set it right.

* * *

The Earth Kingdom prison would have been a joke in the Fire Nation---everything was made of wood. Merlin wondered vaguely, as he strode through rows of cells, whether this place had metal cells to put firebenders. He shook this thought away, along with the guilt he felt for lying to Thomas. He knew the whole thing was necessary, but sometimes he wished there was a way to change his partner’s mind about Arthur. It wasn’t like Thomas was the only person to lose loved ones to Uther’s purge; Merlin himself could count on one hand the number of family members he had still living.

He took a second after this thought to remind himself why he was doing this, then banished all of that from his mind as he finally came in front of the cell he needed.

Gwen and Elyan, as he gathered their names were, jumped up with narrowed eyes and pinched faces as they saw him. Gwen looked merely worried, but Elyan was obviously furious.

“Why have we been locked up?” he demanded, striding forward. “We told you we don’t know where to find the Fire Prince!” His eyes widened as he got a good look at Merlin’s face. “Wait, I saw earlier! You were with---”

He did not finish saying who, but sealed his lips firmly.

“That’s why I am here,” Merlin said softly, glancing down at the end of the corridor, where Earth Kingdom soldiers were posted. The good things about wooden cells was that sound did not carry well. “I do not mean you or Arthur any harm. Right now, he’s in a safe place, and I’m going to do my best to get you out of this mess.”

Gwen moved forward, grasping the thick wooden beams in her hands. “How do we know we can trust you?” she whispered. “You’re a firebender, working for _her_. You could be luring us into some kind of trap.”

Merlin sighed. “I suppose you don’t,” he said. “I really don’t need you to tell me anything, because I already know Arthur is your friend. He told me that himself. The real reason I came is because if the other Fire Nation soldiers were to discover I saw Arthur, my life would be forfeit. I need you to keep that a secret. Why would I ask you to do that if I wanted Arthur captured?” His plea to their reason made Elyan and Gwen exchange a look that he could not read. Merlin recognized that as secret sibling talk; he and his brother Will would do it all the time. “Like I said, I will get you out of here and back to safety, but it might take a little work. Just be patient.”

Gwen watched him closely. Merlin had been told before that he was easy to read like a book, and he hoped his sincerity was written on every part of his face. Finally, she nodded slowly.

“We just want to protect Arthur. We’ll do whatever it takes.” Merlin smiled in gratitude, and extended his hands to the siblings through the bars to shake.

A deep voice interrupted the little bonding moment. “Hey, firebender, don’t you know you can’t talk to the prisoners alone?”

Merlin jumped a little, but then smiled as he saw who was coming towards them. Finally, someone he could trust.

* * *

Arthur considered not going back to the abandoned shop. After all, he did not know for sure if he could trust Merlin; what if the firebender was going to send soldiers after him? In the end, he crossed back into the dirty room and started pacing the floor. It was now late afternoon, and the crowds were starting to gather again. A lone firebender would not pass unnoticed in these busy streets, so Arthur alternated between hoping Merlin waited until later to bring news and feeling angry the boy had not come already.

In the meantime, thoughts of Gwen and Elyan pervaded his mind. He tried to distract himself, but could not help imagining every awful possibility. He admired Gwen’s kindness and strength and Elyan’s indomitable spirit, but they were just simple blacksmiths. What were they against the might of the Fire Nation?

He had experienced that might, both when his father was alive and after he had died. Uther had been a focused but ruthless ruler, set in his goals and not willing to listen to anyone that got in his way. Morgana was the same kind of person. When they had been younger, she had had a set of ideals, most of which Arthur agreed with, but in the end she had chosen to follow those goals by doing things Arthur simply could not stand for. The things Arthur had heard and witnessed during the six months he spent in jail had convinced him that the Fire Nation had simply traded one tyrant for another.

If only his people had listened when he tried to warn them.

Arthur settled himself against the cracked wall, watching the light fade from the room as the sun set. He was in a weird mood, brought on by everything that had occurred in the last few days, but Arthur thought it was a grand metaphor for how hope had slowly faded from his life until he had none left.

Night fell. The sounds of the city outside faded away, and there was only the occasional passer-by. Arthur grew antsy, wondering if he should go back to the smithy and see what he could find there. He knew Valiant had been aware of his friendship with the two earthbenders, but he wondered why the soldiers had decided to arrest them. Maybe Elyan had lost his temper and said something untoward? Maybe Gwen had revealed her close friendship to Arthur?

He shivered a little.

The wall behind him shivered too.

Arthur tensed, wondering if he imagined it, but before he could react, the wall moved and pushed him forward. He tumbled over his hands, trying to regain his bearings and footing. Dark shapes darted from the doorway, from the hole in the wall, and down the crumbling staircase, surrounding him. Arthur shot towards his only hope of escape, but was arrested by the earth itself rising to trip him.

The ten men surrounding him wore distinctive green uniforms with round hats. The Dai Li.

Arthur’s lip curled. So, Merlin had betrayed him after all.

* * *

The Dai Li led Arthur swiftly through deep tunnels under the city, his hands cuffed behind his back. Despite his angry questions, they all refused to speak to him, leaving him to fall back into the familiar feeling of despair that had permeated his life for five years.

He wondered if Gwen was still alive.

After what seemed like an eternity of being pushed by the Dai Li, they led him up a long flight of steps. At the top stood a tall figure, and Arthur was brought to a stop in front of him. This new character, another Dai Li agent with curly brown hair, eyed the Fire Prince for a moment before addressing one of the agents.

“Was he armed?”

“No, sir, we just found his chimney broom in the house with him.”

The man looked at Arthur curiously. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Arthur Pendragon. None of which suggests to me that you would be caught working as a lowly chimney sweep in the Earth Kingdom capital.”

“I guess I’m just full of surprises,” Arthur replied stiffly.

The man nodded. “My name is Leon. I am head of the Dai Li agents here in Ba Sing Se. We are taking you to see the Earth Queen.”

Arthur snorted. “Why her? Doesn’t everyone here answer to the Firelord anyway? Why not just bypass Queen Annis and go straight to the Fire Nation soldiers?”

The hands holding Arthur tightened painfully, but Leon gave his agents a warning look. “Don’t worry, Your Highness, we _will_ be handing you over to the Fire Nation, just not in the manner you might expect. I would advise as we talk with Her Majesty Queen Annis that you keep your manner polite, or she might change her mind about your fate.”

The stairs, as the group continued forward, led to a small chamber with no outlet. Arthur looked around, confused, but Leon made his way to the far wall, took a strong stance, and pushed a square section of the stone out of his way. He beckoned to Arthur, and the Fire Prince was surprised when the other Dai Li removed his shackles and remained behind while he and their leader went through the opening.

The room beyond was large, spacious, but quite plain for a throne room. Even the throne itself, though backed by a neatly-wrought relief sculpture, was a simple stone chair atop a platform. Another, smaller, throne rested at the base of the stone steps.

Arthur had never met Queen Annis before, but he knew enough about her to be wary. She was said to be almost as harsh as his father had been, though for different reasons. Arthur had heard many stories about how Morgana managed to subdue this woman’s fierce will, none of which he believed. As Leon led him towards the two thrones, the prince took in everything he could about the Earth Queen. She had light brown hair threaded through with silver and green gems, her face was long and unmoving, and the green gown she wore only served to show how dark her eyes were.

In the smaller throne sat the Princess Mithian; she had a softer yet darker beauty than her mother, and her eyes watched Arthur keenly as he came to stop before the two of them, hesitated, then knelt.

“Your Majesty, Your Highness,” he said, keeping his head bowed. “I am the former Prince Arthur of the Fire Nation.”

A moment passed as Annis simply observed him. “Prince Arthur,” she said, her voice steely. “Your presence here in my kingdom has caused me a great deal of trouble.” Arthur tried not a flinch. _Don’t I know_ , he thought. “The Firelord has ordered that I hand you over to her for trial and execution. You know, of course, that I am a mere vassal to her. To refuse would bring her wrath down on my head and the heads of my citizens.”

Arthur thought of Gwen and Elyan again and found himself hating Merlin even more. “I have no ill will towards you or your people, Your Majesty.”

“We know you don’t,” Mithian said softly. “We are not accusing you of bringing her firebenders here.”

Annis was getting to her feet and moving forward down the steps. “However, things are the way they are. I cannot be seen to aid you in any way. That’s why you are going to escape and rescue your two friends, despite my best efforts to keep you here.”

Arthur raised his head and stared.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised, Your Highness,” the queen snapped, frowning. “You don’t really think I was going to hand you over to Morgana, did you? You are the true heir to the Fire Nation throne, and perhaps my best chance of overthrowing the Firelord.”

Arthur felt like he had been deflated. Of course. She wanted him to replace Morgana. “My lady, I---”

“You don’t think I will stand for being Morgana’s puppet queen forever, do you?” Annis’ voice was steel again. “I have bowed to her long enough. Perhaps the only thing I admired about your father as opposed to Morgana is he at least had the kindness to stay in his own country; she seems determined to encroach and make everything hers.”

Arthur’s lips twitched. “Morgana has always been possessive of things she feels are her own. How the Earth Kingdom, Air Nomads, and Water Tribes came under that heading, I don’t know.”

“The reach of her arm is far and wide,” Leon said, and Annis grimaced.

“In my own court are traitors and spies. I dare not make a move against her lest the retribution be swift and final. In this room are the few people I can trust with everything.” She gestured to Leon and Mithian.

The door to the throne room creaked open and then swung shut again. Arthur twisted to see who it was. Annis smiled.

“Ah, and of course, my very own Fire Nation spy, Merlin.”

The Fire Prince stared. The young man who had been his enemy only the day before smiled cheekily. “All is prepared, my lady,” the firebender said, turning back to the queen. “The Firelord will not suspect you were involved.”

Annis nodded slowly. In the background, Mithian was leaning forward eagerly.

“I think just one change in the plans, Merlin,” the Earth Queen said. “I have no wish to show my hand too early in the game, not until you have amassed allies in the field, but I want Leon to go with you on your quest.”

The Dai Li agent startled. “Your Majesty?” he questioned. “My place is here at your side, protecting you.”

“You are more needed out in the world, Leon, showing my support to the other nations. You’ll have to go to Chief Olaf, at least, and before the Avatar and the Air Nomads. I want them to see that there’s more behind this than a disgraced prince and a wet-behind-the-ears firebender. You will show them the strength that the Earth Kingdom has. And when the time comes, you will join us in taking that _girl_ off the throne.” Annis’ dark eyes glittered in the torchlight.

Leon lowered his eyes and nodded. “As you wish, m’lady.”

There was a moment of silence, which was broken by Merlin’s nervous voice. “Well, I hope you don’t mind flying.”


	4. The Deserter

Merlin, Arthur, and Leon all took different routes from the throne room. If they were going to keep Annis’ part in all of it a secret, Leon had to be kept hidden as long as possible. The other Dai Li agents led Arthur through dark secrets tunnels to the Earth Kingdom prison, and let him out in a shadowy alcove.

One of the agents pulled a long, sharp knife out of his robes and handed it to Arthur. “This is yours. Wait here for Merlin; you’re his backup.” Then they left as quietly and quickly as they had come.

Arthur did not like being backup, but he could not risk being the one to take Gwen and Elyan from their cells. He waited on tenterhooks for familiar voices to draw nigh. Mostly Earth Kingdom guards strode past on patrol, but he saw a pair of Fire Nation soldiers once, tramping off in the direction Merlin was supposed to be coming from. He sank deeper into the alcove, hiding the shiny blade behind his leg and feeling grateful once again for the ash that coated his gold hair.

All was quiet for a time, and Arthur grew anxious, once again imagining all the things that could go wrong with this plan. Merlin had admitted he wasn’t that good of an actor: what if the other guards saw through his attempt to “transfer” the two blacksmiths? What if Leon was caught? There were simply too many things that could go wrong.

From a couple corridors away came the unmistakable sounds of firebending. Arthur swore under his breath.

Someone shouted, and two Earth Kingdom guards came barrelling around the corner towards all the noise. Arthur took a deep breath, and jumped in front of them. Startled, the one closest to him was clocked in the face and passed out cold on the floor before either could react. Arthur barely avoided the other guard’s attack. He used a tactic the Fire Prince thought he had seen the Dai Li use, pushing a spray of sharp rocks towards Arthur that seemed to have been attached to his hand---a real advantage in this wooden prison. Arthur leapt out of the way, but the fast, blunt attack surprised him and one of the rocks scraped his cheek. The earthbender held his ground as Arthur bore down on him, calling the rocks back towards him and raising his other hand even as Arthur tackled him to the ground. Luckily for Arthur, the scuffle was over before his opponent could gain any real advantage.

He dragged the two unconscious guards into the alcove, feeling a little surprised that he had won. He was fighting-fit from his work, and he still practiced when he could, but it had still been awhile since he had fought with anyone. Well, except Merlin, and he was such a little baby bird that hardly counted as fighting.

Footsteps sounded from the corridor, and Arthur barely had time to duck into the shadows with the bodies before he heard Merlin’s voice calling for him. “We’ve got to go, my partner Thomas turned up,” the firebender said seriously as Arthur came back into the light, but Arthur wasn’t listening. Gwen was standing behind Merlin with Elyan, safe and sound.

“Arthur!” she whispered, and jumped forward to give him a hug. He breathed in the unique blend of dark, rich earth and lavender she always smelled of, and hugged back tightly. He knew they were not out of the woods yet, but something inside him relaxed.

“Okay, really, you two can kiss later, but we _need to go_ ,” Merlin insisted, his face a little panicky as he looked back from the way they had come.

“Don’t be so tense, Merlin,” Arthur replied, letting Gwen go as she blushed. “It’s bad for your health.”

Merlin muttered something about Arthur being bad for his health, then led the way down towards the exit. There was more shouting and running steps coming from before and behind, and Arthur resisted the urge to look back.

“Tell me our escape vehicle isn’t far from the prison,” he said to Merlin as they ran.

“You can’t see it from the prison windows, but our barracks is just down the row of buildings a little ways,” Merlin puffed. “The courtyard is just at the end of---” His sentence ended in a groan.

Sunlight was streaming ahead of them, but their path out of the prison was blocked by a huge wooden gate that had been lowered when the alarm was raised.

A determined look came into Merlin’s eyes. “Leave this to me,” he said, holding his arm out to stop the other three. Beyond the gate three Earth guards, two with swords and one with a bow and arrow, watched as Merlin walked forward.

“Hold, firebender!” one of the guards called. “There’s been an alarm sounded, and those two prisoners you have will have to return to their cells.”

“I don’t think so,” Merlin responded, then picked up speed as he approached the gate. Arthur watched as the firebender drew his arm back and then forward, putting his whole body into the swing. Panicked, the Earth Kingdom guard released his arrow.

Light and heat filled the corridor, emanating from Merlin’s outstretched palm. Arthur felt more than heard the gate explode outward from the force of the bending, and he hoped the guards had thrown themselves clear.

He and Merlin were running forward again before the smoke had cleared, with the two blacksmiths right behind them. There was no sign of the arrow; Arthur could only suppose it had been vaporized midflight.

 _I may have misjudged this young man,_ he thought to himself, and then they were out in the courtyard.

Everything was chaos. Earth and Fire soldiers scrambled to escape the burning wreckage of the gate, settling into bending stances, trying to prepare for whoever was escaping. Merlin threw another flash of flame ahead of him, surprising the defenders enough that the group made it halfway through the courtyard before retaliation hit. Arthur tripped over one lifting rock and dodged another one as earthbenders attacked. Gwen and Elyan, with stone under their feet, were able fight back, throwing tiles and dust in all directions; Arthur admired how in sync they were with each other as they battled three Fire soldiers and an earthbender. Merlin was caught in an intense exchange with two earthbenders. Normally firebenders were everywhere in fights, leaping and twisting and throwing powerful strikes to gain an advantage, but Merlin seemed to have mimicked the normal earthbending method of standing his ground. It seemed to be working well for him, Arthur thought, as a gust of fire knocked one of his earthbending opponents clean into the wall.

The three earthbenders surrounding Arthur suddenly backed off, and he jerked around to see why. Behind him stood Merlin’s firebending partner---Thomas?---with hate in his eyes. The soldier did not wait for an introduction, but attacked Arthur with vim and vigor. Arthur dodged the first attack, then the next, watching Thomas’ fast and furious but predictable firebending style. The prince darted in and _almost_ managed to nick the man’s leg before he twisted away, but it was alright; he would get another chance if he just remembered his training. Arthur had hated his anti-firebending classes when he was younger, but there was no point in denying they had really come in handy.

Thomas leapt forward, fire growing between his hands, and Arthur slipped to the side and stabbed with his long knife. He missed Thomas’ back, but sliced cleanly through the muscles at the back of his left arm, probably nicking the bone too. The firebender gave a cry and stumbled back, cradling his now useless arm. The earthbenders, sensing Arthur’s approaching victory, stepped forward again---

\---and were forced back by something that fell from the air and exploded when it hit the ground.

Arthur looked up and was relieved to see a Fire Nation airship with a lone, red-clad figure in the catwalks beneath, tossing grenades down at the fighters below with precision. The figure’s face was obscured, but Arthur thought he glimpsed a golden curl escaping from under the hood.

Leon had come to their rescue. He was now lowering ropes to the four fighters below; Arthur flinched and started when a hand grabbed his arm, but it was just Merlin, scratched and covered in ash, dragging him towards the nearest rope. “Get up!” Merlin yelled over the din of fighting and explosions. “I’ll be right behind you!”

“Guinevere!” Arthur shouted, and Merlin pushed him towards the rope.

“I’ll get her! You get to safety!” But this was not very convincing to Arthur; he pushed back, looking for dark, curly hair, and saw Gwen and Elyan standing surrounded by the shattered remains of the courtyard, battling several other earthbenders. There was no way he could get to her in time, but he still raced forward in an attempt, Merlin at his heels. Uther would have boxed his ears for his negligence---he was almost killed at least four times as he dashed forward, swinging and slashing with his long knife, fighting towards his two earthbending friends. Elyan saw Arthur and Merlin coming, and attempted to clear a path for them, but it was no use---even Merlin’s firebending could not cut through the wall of earthbenders separating them. Arthur’s focus narrowed to dodging disks and spikes made of earth, fighting for every inch he could get closer to Gwen and Elyan. There did not seem to be any use, though; there were simply too many opponents.

Arthur gritted his teeth. He had gotten Gwen and Elyan into this, and he was going to get them out---or die trying.

Something brushed against his hand, and he swung out, only to get his knife arm a little tangled in the rope dangling there. For a moment Arthur stared, then the ground under him lurched and threw him upward. As he scrambled to get a hold on the rope, now his only lifeline, he realize that one of his friends---Leon, Gwen, or Elyan---had taken matters into their own hands and pushed him towards escaping. He looked down and saw, to his infinite relief, Gwen and Elyan do the same thing, rocketing upwards on spurs of rock towards the catwalks above. Merlin was still at the base of the rope.

The ascent up the rope was terrifying. Rocks and flames whizzed in every direction, each one convincing Arthur that he was only seconds away from falling to his death. He envied the blacksmiths’ quick climb now. He looked down and saw Merlin defending the end of his rope against the slowly advancing hordes of earthbenders and Fire Nation soldiers. Arthur hesitated; Merlin could not hold them off on his own forever.

The airship started to rise up, and Arthur felt a moment of panic, both from the movement, and from the sight of the rope leaving Merlin. Arthur paused only for a moment, then started to descend the rope again; that idiot was going to get them both killed for sure, but Arthur could not leave an ally to die.

At the last second, Merlin gave a blast of fire, pushing himself upwards, and leapt to grab the trailing end of the rope. Though the earthbenders still attempted to reach them, countered by the two blacksmiths, the airship quickly went out of their reach.

Arthur had never seen Ba Sing Se from the air. He had come into the Earth Kingdom on a long-distance fishing vessel, traveling for weeks in cramped and uncertain conditions, then joining a trade caravan in Omashu to go up into the bigger city. He watched as his adopted home slid away under him, seeming to expand as they rose ever higher. There was the palace, and he could see the huge market he went to sometimes when he had the money. His apartment was too small and insignificant to be viewed from so far away.

Everything seemed insignificant from up here. Even his problems felt smaller.

Merlin’s hand touched his foot. “Are you going to stay here gaping all day, or are we going to go up?”

Arthur realized his hands were hurting from clutching the rope for so long, and he scrambled the rest of the way up, crawling along the catwalk, his breathing heavy. Merlin followed him.

“That---that was some escape, Merlin,” he commented, not willing to admit that he was _really_ impressed, but wanting to concede something.

Merlin, though dirty and scraped and holding onto the poles of the catwalk as if it was the only thing keeping him upright, grinned.

* * *

“Well, it’s official,” Gwen said, slumping into the captain’s chair. “We’re on the run from the Fire Nation.”

“When I thought about starting a revolution, I never thought it would begin by running away,” Elyan muttered ruefully. Neither of them had said anything to Arthur about the revelation of his identity, but he supposed it was only a matter of time before the penny dropped.

Merlin shrugged. “You have to start somewhere,” he said, then turned to Arthur. “Where are we headed now?”

Arthur frowned. “Why are you looking at me? This whole thing was _your_ idea!”

Merlin looked affronted. “No, it wasn’t!” Leon intervened before an argument could start.

“With the Fire Nation possibly following us, we can’t waste time. Prince Arthur is a threat to Morgana and she knows it, so she won’t stop until she has his head on a pike. I suggest we start gathering allies at once.”

“Where to first?” Merlin asked. “The Northern Water Tribe?”

“Actually, I was thinking a bit closer than that. Queen Annis is right, if we’re going to defeat the Firelord, there’s at one person we are _really_ going to need on our side,” Leon answered. “The Avatar.”

The other four in the room sat up a little straighter in their seats. The Avatar: Leon was talking about the big fish now.

“So . . .” Merlin hesitated. “The Air Nomads.”

Leon pressed forward. “The Northern Air Temple isn’t far from here. They’ve been keeping the Avatar strictly under wraps, first to protect him from Uther, and now because Morgana is trying to get him on _her_ side. He’s supposed to be a balancing figure, one that works to bring peace and harmony to all the nations. Surely they won’t refuse us for wanting to stop Morgana.”

Arthur did not say anything for a bit, letting the others talk. He rubbed his mother’s ring as he thought and listened. “It’ll be risky,” he said finally. “The Air Nomads are a peaceful people, and like you said, we’re probably being followed. I don’t want to bring the Fire Nation down on them.”

“With all due respect, sire, I’ve been to the Northern Air Temple,” Leon said. “It’s true they live a quiet life, but I wouldn’t say they’re helpless, even against a Fire Nation attack. Air Nomads have a unique advantage over the other three nations, in that all of them are airbenders, instead of just a percentage. They would all be able to defend themselves and escape if need be.”

Arthur still did not like it. He had already made it clear (to Merlin, at least), that he was not interested in usurping Morgana as the Firelord. He was not interested in getting into any kind of war with anyone. He just wanted to live a quiet life.

Still, Annis and Merlin had shown such faith and hope that he would be able to help them out of their trapped situations. Leon seemed to be looking to Arthur for guidance. He had dragged Gwen and Elyan into this mess, just by being their friend; surely he owed them all something.

He sighed, and looked around at his companions. It wouldn’t hurt to stick with them for a little while, if just to get them started on their---admittedly hopeless---path, get them on the right course before withdrawing again. If they really were determined fight in this war, the Avatar was as good a place to start as any.

“Alright,” said Arthur. “The Northern Air Temple it is, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have now caught up with what I've posted on FF.net, so I will normally post every Wednesday. I hope you have enjoyed Chapter 4, and I would love to hear what you are thinking of the story so far. Any questions or comments that you have, please make sure to let me know; that will help me to tie up any loose ends as I wrap this story up.


	5. Lancelot de l'Air

Arthur found himself in his usual dream. He had had it so often in the preceding years it did not even wake him up anymore. He was, once again, standing at his father’s right-hand side on the balcony above the palace courtyard. Uther stood straight and proud, convinced of his own rightness. Arthur looked to his left and saw Morgana, her beautiful face composed, but sadness in her eyes. Arthur had not known the reason behind that sadness before her coup, but now he realized how much pain and fear she must have felt.

There was a crowd in the courtyard below: an execution was about to take place. By the time Arthur had reached his teenage years, executions had become rare; most benders in the Fire Nation were already dead or had escaped. The guards escorted a heavily-bound prisoner forward, a firebender they had captured. Arthur was not surprised to see that the prisoner was _also_ Morgana. The face in the dream changed: sometimes it was someone Arthur remembered actually being executed, sometimes it was Gaius, other times Morgana or Nimueh---he imagined Merlin and Thomas would make their way into this dream soon enough.

In one corner of the courtyard was a deep pool of water. It was not the kind of pool to drink or bathe in. The water was dark and murky, and Arthur had always avoided it. He watched as the guards attached heavy weights to Morgana’s legs and arms, watched as her struggles became a little more frantic, even letting a little, weak flame curl out of her mouth. Arthur’s father always executed benders like this, snuffing them out by using the opposite element. Earthbenders were hanged, waterbenders burned, and firebenders drowned. Uther had never managed to capture an airbender, but Arthur could only imagine the punishment for that.

“Morgana Pendragon,” Uther intoned gravely, leaning forward on the balcony. “You have been tried and found guilty of the offense of bending. There is only one sentence I can pass.”

He motioned to the guards, and Morgana was forced forward and tossed into the pool. She sank towards the bottom immediately, thrashing and struggling, but there was really no hope.

There never had been any.

“Arthur.”

The prince turned to Morgana to find her watching him with malice in her eyes. “This is why they betrayed you, Fire Prince. They knew you would end up just like your father.”

“Arthur!”

Arthur took in a deep breath as he woke up, turning quickly to see Merlin bending over him, looking amused. “You’ve slept for long enough, _sire_. It’s late, and we’re almost to the Temple.”

The Fire Prince sat up slowly, feeling like he had not slept at all. Looking around, he could see the barracks was now deserted. “Did I sleep all day?” he asked incredulously.

Merlin nodded, turning back towards the door. “I made dinner, and you’d better get up now if you want any: Elyan and Leon eat like they’re still youths.”

Arthur sat up, groaning at the soreness in his muscles and the grogginess in his head. After the airship had passed over Ba Sing Se and set off into the wilds, Arthur had volunteered to take first watch, feeling more awake than he had in years. He had spent the early morning hours before the sun rose wandering from room to room, deck to deck, taking in everything he had ever missed or forgotten about airships. It wasn’t like he had been on them a lot---his father preferred komodo rhinos as transportation---but being back on something owned by the Fire Nation brought back a lot of memories.

The Prince sighed and stood up to head towards the washroom. Not all the memories had been pleasant ones. He had avoided the holding cells like the plague, trying not to think about all the benders he had traveled to apprehend.

The washroom was a fairly small room, with only two mirrors, and after Arthur had splashed his face with water in an attempt to wake himself up, he looked critically at himself in the spotted mirror before him. His once golden hair, now dark with soot and dirt, hung limply in his face, and his eyes gave the impression of someone who was already dead. His menial job as a chimney sweep had certainly kept him safe, but he felt that he hardly looked like a prince anymore.

When he made a new life for himself, when all this was over, he wondered what kind of work he would find then. If this crazy band of misfits managed to get their way and dethrone Morgana, he supposed he would not have to hide anymore; he could do work a little more suited to his temperament, like . . . well . . . perhaps a soldier. A peacekeeper. A merchant.

Arthur wasn’t sure of what he could do, to be honest. He had never known anything except being a prince and a chimney sweep. With such opposite experiences, he supposed he could really do anything now.

But first, he reflected as he sniffed at his sweaty, sooty shirt, he would have to take a bath and get some new clothes. Perhaps several baths, if the ash would ever come off. Gwen had never turned up her nose at him, not even on his most smelly days, but he did not want her to have to hug him if just touching his clothes might give her a lethal disease.

Having an idea, Arthur left the washroom and searched until he found the armory. Just as he thought, there were a few extra Fire Nation uniforms folded neatly beside the pike rack, and he hesitated only a moment before stripping and putting one on. He avoided the thought of how natural the red and black fabric felt and looked. If anything, this sealed the deal: he would have to face up to the fact that his two closest friends now knew his identity as the Fire Prince, and were probably troubled by it. Gwen was kind and understanding and Elyan was loyal to his friends, but all bets were off with them when it came to the Fire Nation.

He shook his head, and headed up towards the control room to find out where the food was. It did not really matter in the end if Gwen and Elyan forgave him, he told himself, because he would never put them in such danger again by remaining their friend. Once all this was over, he would have to go through life alone.

* * *

There was not much left of dinner, as Merlin predicted, but Arthur managed to assuage most of his hunger pangs while standing next to Leon at the control panel, looking out the window. Elyan, who had not said anything to Arthur, stood on Leon’s other side. They were watching as the far-off mountain peak holding the Northern Air Temple came ever closer.

Arthur whistled lowly, observing the white walls and red roofs of the buildings clinging to the top of the mountain. “How do those airbenders build something like that?” he wondered aloud. “That’s quite remarkable.” Merlin, sitting in the captain’s chair behind them with his feet up on the chair Gwen was sitting in, gave an affirmative noise.

Leon nodded absently, his brow creased. “We are still at least an hour away, but they have certainly spotted us by now. I don’t expect them to attack without talking with us first, but we’ll have to be careful; we are in a Fire Nation _airship_ , so they have the advantage over us.” Leon adjusted a few controls on the panel, making sure their course was still straight, and then continued. “They’ll send out gliders first, a greeting party. I know their head monk well, so I’ll speak to them.”

Merlin took his feet down and leaned forward. “How are we going to convince them to introduce us to the Avatar? They’ve been keeping him hidden for so long---”

“The Avatar’s job isn’t to be hidden away in a monastery,” Leon said. “His job is keep balance between all four nations, and that’s our aim here. We _want_ to bring peace back into the world. We’ll simply have to get them to see that. I will be able to promise the support---and protection---of the Earth Kingdom, and Prince Arthur can provide his assurances that he will no longer persecute benders.” Leon hesitated, and looked at Arthur. “Right?”

Arthur only said, “The only bender I hold ill will for is Morgana.” His eyes flickered over Leon’s shoulder to Elyan; the earthbender did not seem angry or hostile, but he looked away almost as soon as their eyes met.

The Dai Li agent nodded. “If they refuse . . . that’s on them. We will do the best that we can.”

After that, Leon and Elyan trooped down to the engine room to make sure all was running smoothly, and Arthur stared out the window again towards the Air Temple, Merlin and Gwen quietly murmuring in the background. Arthur felt very aware of their presence behind him.

He heard Gwen pause in their conversation for a moment, then she said, “Merlin, perhaps Leon and Elyan need help in the engine room. You’ve been on airships before, you might be able to assist them.”

Merlin sounded confused. “I never worked in the engine room. I was always up here in the control room, or on the catwalks.”

“Well, I think _Arthur and I_ have got it up here,” Gwen insisted. “I really think they might need your help.”

Arthur bit his lip to keep from laughing as Merlin, looking even more confused, stood up and tromped out.

After a few moments Arthur felt a presence at his side; Gwen had joined him at the control panel. There was a distance between them that even Arthur could sense, one that could not be measured. He looked out the window, not seeing anything as he struggled for what to say.

“I---” he began the same moment Gwen said, “Arthur---” and both of them paused awkwardly.

Chivalry said that he really should have let her go first, but Arthur plunged in anyway. “Why did you lie to those soldiers about knowing me? They had a Dai Li agent with them, surely you know they can sense when someone is lying.”

Gwen huffed out a laugh. “Well, yes, looking back, I shouldn’t have done that, but at the time, all I could think about was that if the Fire Nation was looking for you, it couldn’t be good. I didn’t want them to find you. You know how I get when I’m anxious; I really just stop thinking and say whatever comes into my head.” Her expression was so earnest and open despite Arthur’s deceptions and faults that he felt as if his heart melted. He wondered if he dared put his arm around her.

“Thank you for being so protective of me, Guinevere,” he said, and she blushed as she always did, turning back to the window. “You and Elyan have been kind to me these past few years. I---Well, I never wanted you caught up in any of this.”

The look Gwen gave him was sad. “We already were caught up in it, Arthur. The moment Morgana took our kingdom from us. And we will be proud to fight alongside you for the cause of freeing it from her tyranny. You are a good man, and I was angry for a moment there, but I understand now why you did it. Elyan, he’ll come around. He knows that you have his best interests at heart.”

Arthur gave her a weak smile, then turned to look out the window again. He wondered yet again what he had gotten his friends into.

Before he had a chance to formulate a response, he noticed something odd. Something very odd. There was, coming towards them, what looked like a small flock of large birds, except the birds never flapped, and their colors were a strange combination of red, orange, yellow.

“What is that?” he muttered, peering through the glass. “Wait a second . . . those aren’t birds . . .” He turned around yelled for Leon. Merlin came sprawling through the door in excitement.

“Is it them?” he cried, dashing to the big windows. “Is it the airbenders? Are they flying?” He turned to Arthur. “Can airbenders fly?”

Arthur rolled his eyes and chose not to answer. When Leon and Elyan came back up and Leon confirmed at it was, in fact, Air Nomads, the small group trooped down to the catwalks to greet their guests.

* * *

To say that Gwen was uncomfortable flying on an airship would have been an understatement. Being an earthbender, she was used to having the ground firmly planted beneath her feet, and watching the hills and mountains roll away was far beneath---or perhaps above---her comfort zone.

Standing between Merlin and Elyan on the catwalks, watching as an advance party of airbenders arrived to discover their purpose, she attempted to not look down through the grating or imagine what would happen if she slipped and fell. It made her feel a little bit better to know that her brother was probably feeling the exact same uneasiness, though he had the added benefit of being a metalbender on a metal ship.

The other three, Arthur, Leon, and Merlin, seemed completely at ease in the air. Merlin clasped the railing and leaned over it as he watched the airbenders approach, smiling widely. Gwen did not know this young firebender very well, but his enthusiasm and earnestness had made her feel like she could trust him. Whether she could, in fact, trust him, remained to be seen. The Dai Li agent stood straight-backed, his hands clasped behind him in a strong but non-threatening earthbending stance. Since he knew the Air Nomads the best, he would be leading the talks with them.

And then there was Arthur. _Prince_ Arthur, she corrected herself in her head as she watched him surreptitiously from the corner of her eye. He stood sure-footed on the swaying catwalks, a line between his eyebrows as the airbenders drew nearer. Though as a chimney sweep he had never drawn attention to himself, he seemed to be standing much confidently now, and the red and black uniform he wore made him look like the Fire Nation Prince he really was. Only the fact he had not been able to wash off the dirt and soot made him seem like the old Arthur she knew. She found herself wondering what color his hair really was under the ash.

“Are we going to meet with them out here?” Elyan asked Leon as Gwen returned her attention to the sky. He looked uncomfortable, but she could relate. “It’s a little windy!”

“I don’t think a little wind will bother an airbender,” Leon pointed out, “but I was hoping to talk with them up in the bomb bay, if we can get them to go up.”

The benders had now come almost level to the ship, and she could see how fast they were really moving. Their wide red gliders strained in the wind, their yellow and orange clothing streaming back behind them. Gwen counted ten of them, some of them with shaven heads, some with streaming brown and black hair.

Suddenly, she felt the wind shift, now blowing towards them, and the airbenders adjusted their gliders to swing in, swooping towards the airship with astonishing speed. Merlin gave a whoop, and Gwen gasped, feeling sure they would crash, or miss entirely---

All ten airbenders landed lightly on their feet, straightening to stand tall on the metal grating. One by one, they folded their gliders and turned to look at the crew.

Gwen found her mouth was open and quickly shut it.

Leon moved forward at the same time the leading airbender did. He was a tall, well-built young man with dark hair and eyes. His blue airbending tattoos peeked out from under his bangs and out his sleeves, the symbol, Gwen knew, of a fully trained airbender. As he gave the crew a small but wary smile, she could not help but notice that he was very good-looking.

“We welcome you to the Northern Air Temple,” the man said, taking in the odd assortment of characters before him, from Merlin’s Fire Nation uniform to Elyan’s rough, stained smithy clothes. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

“I am Leon of the Dai Li, sent here on a special errand by the Earth Queen Annis,” Leon said formally. “We travel on a Fire Nation airship because we had to, ah, make a quick escape from Ba Sing Se. We have come on a diplomatic mission. I am familiar with your head monk, Iseldir, and I think he will remember me as well.”

“I remember you, Leon,” one of the airbenders replied, a short woman with wind-swept blond hair. “You came here a few years back.” She turned to the airbender who had spoken first. “He’s the head of the Dai Li.”

“I see,” the young man replied, then turned back to the group. Gwen stopped breathing for a second as his dark eyes fell on her. “I am Lancelot, one of the monks here. You can imagine that we were surprised to see a Fire Nation airship making its way towards us, considering these troubled times.”

Leon shook his head. “No explanation needed, Lancelot. We all know the threat the Fire Nation poses, in fact, that’s why we are here. Our Queen has decided to make a bid against the Firelord, and requests assistance.”

The Air Nomads exchanged uneasy looks. Gwen wondered if this was simply because of their pacifist nature, or because they guessed Leon’s errand at their Temple. “I see,” Lancelot said, then straightened. “We will escort you to our head monk. Are there any more on this ship?” When Leon shook his head, the airbender continued: “I hope you don’t mind if we look around a bit, just to make sure . . .?”

“Of course we don’t mind,” Leon replied. “This is a simple diplomatic mission, and we have nothing to hide.”

The airbenders arranged themselves into groups of two and set off into the bowels of the airship, leaving the blond airbender and an older man behind. The woman smiled at them in a friendly way.

“I’m Elena, by the way,” she said, holding out her hand to Leon to grasp. “I am one of the monks here as well, though I suppose you can tell that by the tattoos.” She turned her eyes onto the other four, and her eyes widened a bit when she saw Merlin’s shoulder patch. “Great spirits, are you a _firebender_ ?” she gasped. “I’ve _never_ met a firebender before, I’ve heard your kind are terribly rare. Is that true? Do all of you work for the Firelord? Why are you even here? Did you---”

Merlin looked positively dizzy at all the questions, and Arthur, in the background, rolled his eyes a bit. Gwen gave a little laugh, thinking she quite liked this spritely airbender, and Elena turned her attentions to the two blacksmiths and starting peppering them with questions about the Earth Kingdom and how they had come the Temple.

“---I mean, I know our Temple is considered by some to be _in_ the Earth Kingdom, but we are a completely separate entity and nation. Really, the Queen can’t---”

They never found out Annis could or could not have done, because a shout echoed from above. “Hey! We’ve found someone!”

Leon gaped. “But, there _was_ no one else!”

The older airbender shifted suspicious eyes on Merlin and Arthur, standing there in Fire Nation uniforms, and the firebender gulped a little bit as the Air Nomads poured down the ladders back to the catwalks. Lancelot looked darkly amused as he led the stowaway forward. “Looks like you put someone in the holding cell but forgot to lock the door,” he told the astounded crew.

It was woman was dark brown hair, wearing the normal trousers and tunic of an Earth Kingdom woman. Her face was vaguely familiar to Gwen, but she could not think where she had seen her before. On the other hand, Merlin let out a groan.

“Oh no,” he said, then: “Princess Mithian?”


	6. The Northern Air Nomads

Arthur had be honest with himself; when the airbenders had announced a stowaway, he had imagined the worst. Even with it being Princess Mithian, he found himself letting out a relieved sigh. Gwen and Elyan looked a bit star-struck to see their nation’s heir so close, but Merlin and Leon acted as if this _was_ the worst that could happen.

“Your mother is going to _kill me_ ,” Merlin groaned, looking dismayed at the princess before him. “Really and properly kill me this time.” Leon was too in control to say anything, but his face indicated he was thinking something similar.

“Nonsense, Merlin,” Mithian soothed. Even after being collared by the airbenders, her demeanor was calm and unruffled. “I left my mother a note; she knows I left of my own accord. I’ll be in a spot of trouble when I get back, but I can deal with that.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Elena said, pointing between Mithian and the others. “You lot didn’t even know she was on board? She’s a stowaway?”

Leon sighed. “I was entrusted with keeping the royal family of the Earth Kingdom safe; I would never have allowed her to come.”

Mithian looked affronted. “ _Allowed me_ ? I am the Crown Princess of the Earth Kingdom, Leon; you don’t _allow me_ to do anything. I made a choice to come along without informing my mother first, and I have my reasons.”

Arthur had been watching thus far with his arms crossed his arms in irritation. _Well, isn’t our band of misfits just getting better and better?_ He thought sarcastically. “Your Highness, we’re not going on holiday here. We’re going to overthrow the Firelord. What are you _doing_?”

“Exactly!” Mithian replied. “I want to go with you and help, not sit idly by in the palace.” At Arthur’s unimpressed looked, she persisted. “Look, I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t have a lot of real-world experience. I’ve been taught by the best masters earthbending can make, but mostly behind the walls of the palace. But, I have been sitting in council with my mother these last three years, advising her and helping her make decisions, and I want to prove myself in the world! I want to fight!”

“This is no fight for a princess,” Lancelot pointed out, but that was the wrong thing to say. Mithian’s eyes flared.

“And what? It’s a fight for a blacksmith?” she demanded, gesturing at Gwen and Elyan, standing at the side. Arthur noticed with displeasure that Lancelot continued to look at Gwen even after Mithian had turned and gestured towards Merlin.  “It’s a fight for a farmboy? I am the heir to the throne of the Earth Kingdom, and one day I may have to lead my people into battle. I need experience. I need allies. I need---” She stopped, biting her lip. “I need to calm down. I promised I would hold my temper. But my point still stands. I am with you already, and you can’t risk turning around to send me back.” Mithian folded her arms smugly and stubbornly. Leon huffed, and there was a line between Merlin’s brows.

Arthur canted his head to the side, feeling much calmer. “Your Highness, if you feel like you need to prove yourself to someone, you go right ahead. But I will warn you, our chances of winning this war---or even surviving to wage one---are slim to none. You’re taking your life into your hands by joining us, I hope you know.”

Mithian relaxed a little, and gave Arthur a small smile. “My only wish is to see my country free from the bondage it is in. I hope us working together achieves that.”

Lancelot, having finally torn his eyes away from Gwen, now watched the exchange between Arthur and Mithian with narrowed eyes. “You seem to be in a position of authority here, soldier,” he pointed out. “How did two Fire Nation soldiers, one a firebender, come into this gathering?”

Arthur winced, realizing he had been acting too much like his old self. “My name is Arthur,” he replied. “And I am not a soldier; this uniform was all I could find on such short notice.”

“It’s not just those outside the Fire Nation that can see Morgana is a tyrant,” Merlin told Lancelot, his voice quieter than Arthur had ever heard. “Arthur and I are, in fact, uniquely positioned to know just how important it is to remove her.”

Leon seemed a little desperate now, sensing the airbenders’ distrust. “We truly apologize for this; we did not know she was aboard. Would it still be possible to talk with Iseldir?”

The airbenders all exchanged looks, then Lancelot nodded slowly. “We will send word to him that you are coming,” he said. “You can say your piece to him. And---” his eyes lingered on their soiled clothes and dirty faces “---you may use our baths too.”

* * *

The bath felt gloriously wonderful. It was also over too soon, but they had been granted only a few moments of reprieve to clean themselves off before going to see Iseldir. Arthur wondered at this act of kindness, but he was thankful for it. Living as a poor peasant for so many years meant he had not had this luxury for many a year, so he scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed at his head until the water turned as black as his hair had been. He felt glad they had all received their own small tub for bathing, no matter if he did not actually fit into it, because the privacy felt nice.

Merlin came and fetched him while he was drying his hair on the thin towels. The firebender tilted his head and looked taken aback at Arthur’s appearance, but he only said approvingly, “Now, _that_ looks more like the picture I saw.” The rest of the group had an even more gratifying reaction: Elyan did a disbelieving double-take, Leon and Mithian stared openly, and when Gwen turned around as he came to a stop next to her, she sputtered.

“Arthur?” she squeaked. “Wow, is that you? I hardly recognize you! I mean, you still look like you, but you really don’t, you look a lot better! Wait, not that you looked bad before, I just---wow! I always knew you had to have a different hair color under all that ash, but I didn’t think it would be _that_.”

Arthur smiled as she rambled on, and ruefully touched his hair. He was sure it still had dirt and ash in it. Then, while Merlin was laughing at how vain he was acting, Lancelot came back. The airbender paid Gwen a small smile before beckoning them on, to which Gwen turned red and looked away quickly. Arthur frowned at this exchange, and moved a little closer to her side as they walked.

Arthur had known, even from a distance, that the Temple was a beautiful structure, but close up it was breathtaking. The ceilings were high and arched, there were open windows everywhere, and there did not seem to be any doors. There were curious airbenders peeking out from behind corners, not to mention staring openly, as they were taken to meet the Head Monk. He saw small children racing each other on mini-tornados, youths trying to meditate, and adults conversing with each other. Even with the shadow of a Fire Nation airship hovering over the Temple, there was a spirit of happiness and peace unlike anything Arthur had felt, except for maybe a few quiet afternoons he had stolen at the smithy with Gwen. He looked back at her as he thought this, and saw her with the same wondering expression that was probably on his own face.

Eventually they reached a spacious meeting area on one side of the Temple, and Arthur took in the small circle of monks sitting before them. All of them were older men and women with the blue airbending tattoos. They all stood when the group entered the room, but only the monk right in front of them came forward. The two groups bowed low to each other in greeting.

“I am Iseldir,” the monk said, sweeping white hair out of his eyes. “Welcome to the Northern Air Temple. Lancelot tells me that Queen Annis sent you?”

There was a pause as Mithian, Arthur, and Leon all shot each other hesitant looks. After an awkward moment, Leon stepped forward. Mithian’s look of intense relief mirrored how Arthur felt.

“Monk Iseldir, Her Majesty the Queen sent us here regarding the war that Firelord Morgana has waged on our world. We know that you are a peaceful people, but we have come seeking your help and advice.”

Iseldir’s face was hard to read, but he gestured to the circle. “Come, sit with us.”

After seating arrangements were made to accommodate the larger group, then came introductions. All went smoothly over Leon and Mithian (who everyone was already familiar with), then Gwen and Elyan, but when it came to Merlin and Arthur . . .

“A Fire Nation soldier,” one of oldest monks turned to look at Arthur, “and the Fire Prince himself. We had all thought you dead, Your Highness.”

She sounded disappointed. Not that Arthur really blamed her; sometimes he wished he had not survived the coup himself. “I escaped to the Earth Kingdom, and have been living there these five years,” he said, struggling to maintain composure among all the stares. For monks, these airbenders could give great accusing looks. “My friends, the _earthbenders_ ”---he stressed that part while gesturing at the two blacksmiths---”were captured by the Fire Nation, and in return for helping to free them, the Earth Queen asked my help in taking Morgana off the throne.”

Merlin took this chance to defend his case, as well. “I am a firebender, but I was raised down south, in Omashu. I wanted to go to my uncle Gaius in the Fire Nation so that he could teach me firebending, but after Morgana’s attack on my country I went to Ba Sing Se instead. The Dai Li found me and took me to Annis; I was a spy for her for two years in the Fire Nation. From what I’ve heard in the court, Morgana is preparing for war again. If we don’t strike now, and strike hard, there might not be another chance.”

There was a moment of silence after Merlin’s speech. Arthur was stuck somewhere back when Merlin had mentioned Gaius: he was Merlin’s uncle?

“Do you know where Morgana is going to strike first?” Iseldir asked, his mouth tight with serious thoughts. Merlin shook his head.

“I was not part of the council, so I don’t know that, but the Southern Water Tribe is already her ally; she may try to get the other half of the set.”

“Or she may try and attack us!” Elena cried. “We have no military! We aren’t trained in combat! How are we supposed to fight her off if she attacks?” Lancelot put a comforting hand on her arm.

“Peace, Elena,” Iseldir said. “If Morgana attacks, we will do what we have always done: work together.” The look he gave Arthur and his group now looked pained. “Don’t think we are ignorant about why you have come to us first and not Chief Olaf. You know we can do little to help you in a war, as we have no soldiers. You’ve come for the only thing we _can_ give you.”

Leon’s lips thinned a little bit. “You’re right, there was a reason we came to you first. We have come to find the Avatar.”

The council shifted a bit, uneasy. Arthur saw more than one glance his way. Mithian broke in. “We know you want to keep him safe from Morgana. We know she has threatened your nation to get him to join her, and may try again, but his duty is to all four nations, not just the Air Nomads!”

“You think _that’s_ why we keep him hidden away?” Iseldir asked, astonished. “We always knew he would have to come forward eventually, that he would have to take his rightful place.”

“Then why hasn’t he?” The speaker was, unexpectedly, Lancelot. He flushed a little as all eyes turned on him. “I mean no disrespect, but he’s not a child anymore. It’s time he came forward and showed what he is capable of. The Avatar’s job is to bring balance to the world, to bring peace and harmony.”

Iseldir bowed his head. Arthur felt like his heart was squeezing. Until now, their quest had seemed like a fool’s errand, with four earthbenders, a firebender, and a chimney sweep against the world. Now, he felt a glimmer of understanding for what the others were feeling, the desire and hope that all would work out. He did not know if it was this place of light and peace, or if it was the thought that Gwen had forgiven him, or how he felt like he had literally shed an old skin in that bath, but he stared at Iseldir desperately, wishing his had some sort of telepathy to indicate how much he wanted this, despite his lack of words. He supposed maybe that was the power of the Avatar. Even though he was surely young, younger than Arthur himself, the Avatar was such a figure of hope and awesome grandeur that it was hard not that think that maybe---maybe---all their problems might lessen if they could find him.

Iseldir opened his mouth---

\---and a young airbender seemed to appear out of nowhere, flitting to a graceful stop at Iseldir’s side. The Head Monk stopped and turned to look at her.

“Monk Iseldir,” the girl said, “We’ve spotted more Fire Nation airships coming up towards the temple!”

Arthur’s insides turned to ice. Iseldir and other Air Nomads cast dark looks at their visitors, then the Head Monk said, “How many? How far away?”

“Three, perhaps four,” she replied. “They are a couple hours away, right on the edge of even our sharp eyes.”

“That’s how many airships were in Ba Sing Se when we left,” Merlin blurted out. “The Fire Nation has come to apprehend us.”

“You expect us to believe you had nothing to do with this?” one of the monks asked, his expression suspicious. “We trusted you into our Temple, and this is how you have repaid us?”

There was an outcry as Leon and Mithian tried to explain themselves, and the monks, fearful for their families and homes, sat distrustful and ready to act. Arthur’s fists clenched in anger. He looked at Gwen, on his right side: her hand was over her mouth as she looked between the talkers, as she undoubtedly searched for something to calm this situation. Arthur could understand that feeling; he wished there would be no more fighting. He looked to Merlin, at his left: sitting slumped but helpless, knowing they would not believe him, simply because he was a firebender. Arthur knew that feeling too. He felt he knew the real reason why they had hesitated, and it was because of him. Iseldir was afraid to tell them where the Avatar was, because he thought Arthur would do the same thing to their Avatar as Uther had done to the Fire Nation’s.

This had to stop. He could not allow Uther and Morgana to destroy more than they already had.

“Stop this!” he roared, leaping to his feet. Anger had come easily into him, and the room startled at his outburst. “This fighting and bickering is exactly what our enemies want: for us to divide because we’re afraid and suspicious of each other. We can’t have that.” He turned to Iseldir and struggled to lower his voice. “I truly apologize that we have put you in danger. We will leave as soon as possible. If you don’t want to tell us where to find the Avatar, we’ll . . . we’ll work with that. We understand you have no reason to trust us. We understand that there is a lot of bad history between us. But Morgana started this war, and by the great dragons, she will _finish it_ if we do not get there first! Our only thought in coming here---hoping against hope---was that you could aid us in winning this war.”

Arthur stopped, suddenly unsure about how to proceed. The prince buried deep inside him had nothing left to say to these people who did not want to be his allies, and the chimney sweep was feeling embarrassed at his outburst. Muttering at nothing, he made to sit down again, at the same moment Iseldir rose.

Everyone froze, Arthur half-way seated. The Head Monk spoke. “Prince Arthur, you’re  right,” he said simply. “Morgana would want us to divide and fight with one another. I doubted the strong and steady friendship of Leon and Mithian, and then I rejected your offered hand. That is not the way of an Air Nomad. We must work together. Our people are not warriors, but we will do what we can. And I trust you will do what _you_ can to make these lands peaceful and whole again,” he added, fixing the Fire Prince with a steely gaze. “I cannot promise you the Avatar’s help; he is of age now, and must make his own decisions. But I can tell you where to find him. Go to the Western Air Temple, and talk with the Head Monk, Alator. He will introduce you to the Air Nation’s Avatar.”

A great weight seemed to lift off Arthur’s shoulders, and everyone relaxed. Leon smiled more happily than Arthur had ever seen, and Merlin put his face into his hands. But Iseldir did not look away from the prince.

After a moment, Arthur managed to make words pass through his inexplicably tight throat. “Thank you,” he said, and, “I will not forget this.”

The Head Monk nodded, and then clapped his hands briskly together. “Now! We’d better get you heading off before those airships reach us. With any luck, they won’t attack if you aren’t here!”

No one in their group liked this slim chance, and Mithian even offered to help the Air Nomads escape on their airship, as many as they could carry, but the council refused, saying that if they needed to escape, they would. The two groups, airbenders and refugees, walked quickly back out to the airship. Arthur looked in the direction of Ba Sing Se, but it was full-dark now. He could see nothing in the night sky.

As they made preparations to board, Lancelot put a hand on the Head Monk’s arm. “Monk Iseldir, I request permission to go with them.”

Everyone seemed a bit startled by this request. Arthur, even though he was growing to like Lancelot, felt his heart fall a little when he noticed how interested Gwen looked. Iseldir seemed the most surprised. “You wish to leave here, Lancelot?”

The airbender looked a little embarrassed. “Not that so much, as to be an assistance in this effort. The Firelord has threatened all of us, and I want to work with these my brothers and sisters to bring peace to the four nations!”

Iseldir looked pained, but he only said, “If you want to go with them, you have my blessing, Lancelot. And if anyone else wants to go with you, they are welcome.” He laid a hand on Lancelot’s arm. “Remember all you have been taught, and . . .” His eyes swept over everything before him, taking in Arthur, Leon, and the group, and airship being prepared, the children, and somber faces, and the approaching danger. “. . . and come back to us.”

* * *

The message hawk came around noon. One of the young men from the falconry came rushing down with the message immediately, stumbling a little in his haste. He was stopped by the guards outside the main council chambers.

“The Firelord said she wanted to know immediately if there was a message from the Earth Kingdom,” the young man protested. “One came just now.” The guards refused to budge. “The Firelord to _us_ not let squirmy little interlopers like you into her meetings,” one of them replied.

This was how Morgause, coming late to the meeting, found them shortly thereafter. She sighed and took the message herself, sending the boy running off; everyone knew that as Morgana’s right-hand woman, it would get to the Firelord safely. She carefully slit the seal and read the letter before entering the council room, her eyes growing wider and more enraged at every word.

The council members looked up and nodded respectfully as she entered, some of them looking a little uneasy at her expression. Most everyone who knew anything about Morgause were afraid of her and her formidable bloodbending powers. Morgana narrowed her green eyes at her friend’s face, watching as she stopped in front of the low table around which everyone was sitting and just stood there grimly. Nimueh, who was seated on Morgana’s left, half-rose from her sitting position at the sight.

Lord Agravaine continued his report without pausing. “---export costs have gone up by ten percent in the last year, despite all our efforts to---”

Morgana held up her hand impatiently. “Enough, Agravaine,” she said sharply, and he stopped talking abruptly, realizing the tense atmosphere that was permeating the room. “What is it, Morgause?” the Firelord asked, standing from her cross-legged position on the floor.

“I bring grave news, my lady,” the waterbender said, holding up the letter. “This is a message from the firebender Thomas Collins in the Earth Kingdom. He reports that they did in fact find the Fire Prince, right where the Puppetmaster said he would be, but Arthur managed to escape.”

Morgana’s jaw clenched in anger. After five years of looking for her missing half-brother, and he had escaped. “Do Thomas and Merlin have any leads about where he may have gone?” she demanded.

“Thomas has a few ideas, but that’s not all, Morgana.” Morgause hesitated. “Arthur did not escape alone. Merlin aided him.”

Morgana started, then marched forward across the map covering the floor between the council members to snatch the letter from Morgause’s hand and read it herself. “No, that’s impossible,” she breathed as her eyes jumped from one word to the next. “Merlin would never betray me . . .” Having reached the end, she crumpled the letter in her hands and stood still for several moments. Everyone in the council chambers watched with bated breath. Nimueh looked like she was barely controlling the urge to say, “I told you so!”

The letter clutched in Morgana’s hands suddenly caught fire, and with an enraged yell she flung it from her. The council members nearest her flinched away, knowing of her volatile temper. Fortunately for them, the burning scrap of paper was the only fit of pique she would allow herself, and she clenched her fists in an effort to control her temper. Morgause lifted a hand as if to provide comfort, but let it fall after a moment. Agravaine watched the Firelord carefully.

Morgana turned to face her council, her face carefully controlled. “Thomas felt sure they were heading for the Air Nomads, and he had plans to strike out after them as soon as he had sent the message. I am sure you all know what this means,” she continued, starting to walk slowly back to her place at the head of the table. “For months now we have been setting plans to conquer the Air Nomads and the Water Tribes. With Arthur mobilized and one of my chosen firebenders on his side, there can be no doubt they will attempt to gather a counter-force.”

“Milady,” Nimueh said, “The prince will go to the airbenders to find the Avatar.” It was not a question.

Morgana’s lip curled. “The Air Nomads spurned me when I asked for the Avatar’s help. They may find they will regret that. It is no matter, we will simply have to accelerate our plans; time is no longer on our side.” She turned around slowly to face Morgause again. “As my _trusted_ council members, all of you know your roles in our plan. You know what to do.”

“What are you going to do _now_ , Morgana?” Morgause asked.

“I am going to talk with the Puppetmaster again,” Morgana replied. The waterbender scowled.

“He is not telling you all he knows, Morgana! I would not trust him again if I were you!”

Morgana nodded. “He is tricky, to be sure, but I will bend him to my will, especially when I explain to him all that I and his Queen spoke of last night.”

Most of the council members gave little shudders, but all Morgana did was smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Round Table is gathering again! Next chapter we'll learn a little bit more about the Purge, and there will be some more bromance before our heroes reach their next destination. Thank you for reading; please let me know what you think so far. Feedback help me to grow and improve.


	7. Sins of the Fatherlord

In the end, Lancelot and Elena chose to join them. Gwen seemed quite pleased by this development and led the two airbenders off towards the barracks to choose their bunks; Arthur watched their retreating backs with mixed feelings, wondering if Gwen’s eagerness was due only to her natural friendliness, or perhaps something deeper. Lancelot’s eyes seemed to rarely leave Gwen’s face. That alone left Arthur feeling like smacking something, but what really worried him was how Gwen actually seemed to enjoy talking with Lancelot, and how she would stammer and blush just like how she had previously only done with Arthur. Only Merlin’s question about their next destination kept him from going after them. Arthur and Mithian shared an awkward glance, both wondering who should take charge, and Arthur suggested, “The Northern Water Tribe? Olaf will have more information about Cendred and Morgana, I hope. Also closer than the Air Temple.”

Mithian nodded decisively. “We’ll go there at once. If we hurry, we should be there by midday tomorrow.” She frowned, turning to head up towards the control room. “I’ve heard Chief Olaf is quite the character.”

Arthur snorted as he, Merlin, and Leon followed her. “Not as much as his daughter, Vivian.”

The Earth Princess looked surprised. “You’ve met them?”

“Olaf isn’t a bender, so my father had no qualms about him coming to the Fire Nation. He brought Vivian along, and she may be very beautiful, but that’s honestly about all she has going for her. She’s quite the shrew.”

Mithian smiled at him. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, and Arthur smiled back, thinking what a perfect ally Mithian was turning out to be.

Merlin looked between them, his brow furrowed. “Alright, Northern Water Tribe it is, then.”

* * *

When Arthur woke up that morning, once again feeling like he hadn’t slept at all, he staggered up to the control room with none of his usual grace. He’d had the dream again that night, only this time it was Gaius who disappeared beneath the waves. When he reached the control room, Leon and Elyan were nowhere to be seen (possibly down with the engines), but Gwen, Mithian, and Elena were chatting comfortably by the window, while Merlin and Lancelot sat on the floor by the door. Arthur hesitated for a moment, then decided to let the women have their chat and slumped on the floor next to Merlin.

“Sleep well, Arthur?” Lancelot asked in a friendly tone. Arthur had been feeling annoyed at the airbender’s obvious attraction to Gwen, but he tried to remind himself that Lancelot was actually a pleasant human being before he answered.

“Well enough, I suppose,” he said, not finding it within himself to put a smile on his tired face. “Yourself?”

“I would have slept better if Merlin hadn’t been pestering me with questions about airbending,” Lancelot teased.

Merlin shrugged. “I know I’m not an airbender, but I love learning about other bending styles! Besides, firebending doesn’t really have any defensive moves, and I thought . . . “

And within a few moments the two were engrossed again in a conversation; Arthur felt content to sit next to them and listen to Merlin’s laugh and Lancelot’s deep, steady tones.

He looked up at Gwen, and found she was looking back. She blushed to be caught staring, but gave him a sweet smile. Although he still felt unsure about the situation with Lancelot---the airbender would certainly be a lot less complicated choice for her---he found himself relaxing a little at the sight.

Within the hour, Leon and Elyan came up, sweaty and sooty from the engine room and chatting like old friends. Arthur looked at all the camaraderie around him, and instead of feeling jealous or left out, he felt like he had finally come home.

The feeling did not last long, unfortunately. Leon and Elyan joined the other men on the floor, and Gwen, Mithian, and Elena soon drifted over. Gwen, sitting next to Arthur, smiled at him again, but Arthur also noticed Lancelot’s besotted look, which only served irritate him.

“We have to discuss what our plans are for the next few weeks, at least,” Leon said, ever the practical man. “What is our end goal? How are we going to prepare to face the Firelord?”

“First order of business,” Mithian chimed in, “we are heading towards the Northern Water Tribe and should arrive in a few hours. Our goal there is to strike an alliance with Chief Olaf and enlist his help in defeating Morgana. We’ll just have to be as diplomatic as possible.”

“And all you men, keep your eyes off Lady Vivian,” Arthur warned. “Olaf is protective of her, so anyone who so much as _looks_ at her does so at extreme peril.”

“We also have to think about the airships that are probably still following us,” Leon pointed out. “There are too few of the Fire Nation soldiers to attempt an attack on the Water Tribe, but they might call for reinforcements. There’s no telling what Olaf would do then.”

Merlin frowned. “I don’t know much about him, other than Chief Cendred has been pressuring him to ally with Morgana. Do you think he would turn us in?”

Leon shrugged. “Hard to say. Olaf is a tough fellow, not one take bullying lying down. But we’d best be careful.”

“Noted,” Elyan replied. “So, assuming we gain Olaf’s support, where next? Western Air Temple?”

“Right,” Mithian agreed. “Our next objective will be to meet the Avatar and plead our case before him. I can’t imagine why he would turn us away. In fact, I don’t know why he hasn’t done something already.”

“One thing I don’t understand,” Gwen remarked suddenly, “is why everyone says the Avatar is an Air Nomad. Since Avatar Anhora was from the Earth Kingdom, doesn’t that mean his successor is from the Fire Nation?”

Lancelot looked surprised at her question. “What, you don’t know why that is?”

“The story was never widely spread in the Earth Kingdom,” Mithian admitted. “Most of us only heard the bare essentials from those that escaped.” She turned to Arthur with a steely look. “Since you were there, perhaps you’d like to enlighten us on what really happened?”

Arthur and Merlin both looked at each other for half a second, then quickly away. Arthur had known that this subject would come up eventually, but that did not mean he wanted to talk about it.

Merlin coughed a little. “You’ve got to understand that we weren’t _there,_ not really. I was only three years old, and Arthur would have been, what---?”

“Five or six,” Arthur muttered, not looking at him.

“Yeah, so we were _in_ the Fire Nation, but we weren’t really _there_ , if you know what I mean,” Merlin finished. Gwen looked more confused than ever. “I suppose if you really want to know, we could tell you, er, what happened.”

He looked at Arthur beseechingly. The Fire Prince was playing with his mother’s ring again, but he looked upward with a sigh. He took in the small group around him, their watchful eyes. Leon looked sad.

“The first thing you have to understand,” Arthur began slowly, “is how my father came to hate benders so much. He was the first non-bender born to the Royal Family in, well, ever. Firebending was just so strong in our blood that there never had been a non-bender. Then, he married my mother and I was born. The chances of me _also_ not being a bender were really quite astronomical.

“There were a lot of people who felt having a non-bender on the throne was an insult to our nation. Some of them were even angry enough to act on it. When I was just a baby, a group tried to assassinate my father, but my mother was caught in the crossfire and killed.” Gwen reached out and placed a comforting hand on Arthur’s arm. He did not look at her; he couldn’t. “Even before then my father distrusted benders. He had replaced a lot of my grandfather’s councilors with newer ones who followed his own line of thought, which I think made it a lot easier when he illegalized bending.”

“That’s how the Great Purge started?” Elena asked. “When Uther decided to rid his kingdom of all benders?” Arthur nodded.

“Any bender or any _suspected_ bender was brought to the citadel and executed. Firebenders were drowned: my father thought it was a kind of poetic justice to kill benders using their opposite element. Not just firebenders either; any benders who came into the kingdom were fair game. Eventually people just stopped coming. It seemed like a war could start at any moment.”

“My father was desperate to stop all of it,” Mithian said quietly, then she laughed. “I remember he even wrote to your father, offering my hand in marriage to you if Uther relaxed his anti-bending laws.” Arthur nodded, remembering how Uther had reacted. “He sent back a reply post-haste, saying he wasn’t going to have his son marry an earthbender.”

The Fire Prince squirmed a little, and Gwen, laughing with Mithian, took his hand. “He was _very_ opposed to it,” Arthur admitted, watching how their fingers entwined on his knee. “I’m really not sure why Caerleon wasn’t as opposed to it as well, considering how bloody the Purge had become.”

“But this would have been after everything with the Avatar,” Elyan insisted. “What happened before?”

Arthur took a deep breath. “Right. Not long after the Purge started, the Earth Kingdom Avatar, Anhora, died; he had been ill for some time. I don’t know how long the news took to reach the Fire Nation, or when my father made up his mind about what he was going to do, but he decided he wasn’t going to have the Avatar in his kingdom. He started what is sometimes called the Little Purge, where he started tracking down everyone who would have been the right age and slaughtering them.”

Elyan stared. “But . . . the Avatar would have been a child. Just a few years old.”

Arthur nodded, very slowly. A horrible sort of realization was starting to dawn on the blacksmith’s face, and Gwen’s hand was squeezing his so hard it hurt.

Merlin, taking pity on Arthur, cut in. “That’s why I was raised in the Earth Kingdom. It was really hard for anyone to leave the islands in those days, especially if you had a child of the right age, and my father died getting me and my mother out. It was a really awful time, for everyone.”

Arthur took a deep breath to center himself and said, “So, the moment the Air Nomads knew the Avatar had, in fact, been reborn into their nation, they contacted my father and begged him to stop all the bloodshed, saying it was no longer needed. He did, eventually. And . . . that is the story of why the Fire Nation has no Avatar,” he finished lamely.

He risked a glance in Gwen’s direction, but she was not looking at him but at the floor. She had taken her hand away while he was speaking, and he felt the loss keenly. He knew there was no way she could blame him for what had happened---he had been _five years old_ \---but the fact that he must have stood at his father’s side when he grew older and accepted everything the Firelord did was probably a bit too much for her.

Elyan was shaking his head. “I don’t believe it,” he said, face scrunching up in anger. “That man deserved everything he got. Morgana deserves a medal for killing him!” Arthur tried to swallow around the lump in his throat at these words.

Merlin, who had been watching everyone’s reactions pensively, replied quickly, “Morgana has inherited a lot of Uther’s qualities. He believed in his own philosophy, and wouldn’t let anything get in his way.” Merlin seemed sad as he continued. “I’ve talked with a lot of people who used to know him, and over the years, Morgana has become a lot more like Uther than she would ever care to admit.”

Elyan scoffed violently, waving his arm through the air. “What, and _he_ hasn’t?” he demanded, pointing at Arthur. Then the metalbender jumped to his feet and stalked away, muttering. Gwen hesitated, then, without looking at Arthur, darted after her brother.

Elena watched them go, her mouth a little open. Lancelot, who had not commented since the beginning, looked about to say something, and Arthur discovered that he could not bear the idea of listening to them talk anymore. He stood slowly, forestalling whatever Lancelot wanted to say, and walked out.

He found himself on the catwalks once again. He supposed it was good a place as any, and it was not like Gwen or Elyan would come out there. He clenched the railing tight and watched the ocean slip by. The air was colder now, but Arthur was pretty sure the coldness _inside_ of him had nothing to do with the temperature. He supposed he should feel grateful; he had imagined many different that particular conversation could have gone, and many of them had ended far worse. He could not muster any feeling but regret and guilt.

Someone scrambled down the ladder behind him, the stumbling steps and flash of red in his peripheral vision telling him it was Merlin. He looked away, annoyance coupled with anger rising inside of him.

“Arthur,” Merlin began, but Arthur could not stand it anymore.

“You know, this whole situation is really stupid,” Arthur growled. “All of you mean for me to defeat Morgana and become the next Firelord, but the truth is, none of you trust me. When you look at me, all you see is my father and my sister. When you look at me, you see a man who condoned the slaughter of your kind, who stood at his father’s side during executions, who opposed Morgana even before her cause became unjust. You see someone who can’t be trusted, but for some reason you feel the need to drag this out anyway. Why? What do you possibly have to gain? What can I give you that you pretend I’m really part of your revolution?”

Merlin did not say anything for several moments, and Arthur huffed, turning away to lean on the railings again.

“You didn’t eat your breakfast.”

Arthur blinked at the sudden change in topic, and turned back to see Merlin offering him a piece of cured meat and one of the soft rolls the Air Nomads had given them. The firebender watched him steadily as Arthur slowly reached out and took them, but did not eat.

“Did you ever wonder why I came to find you, Arthur?” Merlin asked.

Arthur stared out at the passing ocean in confusion, fingering the food Merlin had given him. The truth was, he had wondered why Merlin had trusted him so quickly and so easily.

“Gaius told me all about you.”

Arthur halfway turned, his heart-rate spiking. “Gaius? He survived Morgana’s coup?”

“He had to go into hiding, but yes, he did. When he found out I was in the Fire Nation, we got into contact with each other. As far as I know, he’s still safe from the Firelord.” Merlin came forward to rest his forearms on the railing next to Arthur. “Whenever I could get away, we would talk with each other; he would talk about life before the Purge, and after as well. He taught me a lot of bending techniques even Nimueh didn’t know.” As he spoke, Merlin brought his hands up to his face and conjured a tiny flame to warm his fingers and nose.

Arthur’s jaw clenched. “Nimueh? The lightningbender?”

“Yes.” Merlin looked at him curiously. “Did you know her? I know she looks young, but apparently she’s older than the Purge. She says it’s the sea baths that keep her looking so fresh.”

“She was the one who killed my mother,” Arthur said shortly.

“Oh . . . she never mentioned that,” Merlin murmured awkwardly. “Well, I never liked her anyway. She told me a lot of conflicting things about you; then again, so did everyone else. The most interesting ones to talk to were definitely Morgana and Gaius though. It may surprise you to know that Morgana does _not_ , in fact, hate you, despite what she says. I think she’s mostly just sad about you, and maybe a little fearful, because she thinks that you can’t be trusted. She doesn’t think that you can ever rise above what your father did. We bonded a lot over stories of annoying siblings: I complained about my younger brother, Will, and she told me all sorts of embarrassing stories about your childhoods.” The firebender let out a little laugh, and said, “Do you remember when you went to visit the Sun Warrior ruins?”

Arthur flinched a little, then stared in horror. “She _never_ told you that story!” he said, gaping. “That little---”

Merlin was full-on laughing now. “Don’t worry, the secret is safe with me, to be saved until I need blackmail.” The Fire Prince glared. “She also told me that you went on a lot of vacations to Ember Island. Did you know I was born there? I went there a few times, ostensibly to relax or connect with family friends, but really to meet Gaius.” Arthur smiled a bit at the name of his father’s old advisor. “I wasn’t sure whether to believe some of the things he said, but eventually I came to the conclusion that I needed to meet you if I could.”

Merlin was quiet for several long moments after that, and Arthur wondered if that was all he had to say. “What exactly did Gaius say to convince you to want _me_ to be the Firelord instead of Morgana?” he prodded, finally taking a bite out of the roll; he had not realized how hungry he was.

Again Merlin paused. “I wouldn’t have sought you out if I didn’t think Morgana was a unsatisfactory Firelord,” he pointed out, “though going to war with the Earth Kingdom was enough to convince me of that.” He looked pained as he continued. “As I got to know her, I also started to understand her. All of us were damaged by the Purge, and all of us coped with that damage in different ways. Gaius, bless his poor heart, decided to side with Uther beyond all reason. You”---he gave Arthur an exasperated look---”obviously turned to guilt. Morgana had been hurt and felt betrayed by everyone she loved, so she learned to lock everyone out. I had hoped that she and I might even be friends”---for some reason he blushed when he said this---”but I don’t think she really has friends, except for maybe Morgause. She was afraid to give anyone power over her, so she decided she needed to have power over everyone else. She allowed the damage done to her to push her too far. I know Annis wishes that Morgana had just stayed in the Fire Nation, but honestly, it’s not any better there. She’s tearing it apart.

“But when Gaius told me about you, about your desire to be a good leader, about your kind heart, about how you tried to stand up to Morgana when you saw what she was doing to your country and your people, I felt hope. I remembered what Morgana said about how you cared for her, about how you were loyal, and I felt hope. That’s why I wanted to find you. I really had no idea if you would be any better than her, but watching you these past few days, my hope is only rising.”

Arthur looked at him in disbelief, swallowing his last bite of meat. This young firebender had hope that _Arthur_ could be a good Firelord? When had Arthur ever deserved that? “How can you do that? Your father was killed . . . you had to flee the Fire Nation . . .”

Merlin smiled sadly. “When I look at you, I don’t see the son of Uther, my friend. I see a man who was willing to risk everything to save _an earthbender_ that he loved. Who was more worried about putting the Air Nomads in danger than winning. A man who stopped himself from killing me, a firebender, on the off-chance I might actually be an ally. That’s what I see.”

Arthur didn’t know what to say to that, so he turned away. He told himself firmly he would not cry, he _would not_ , even though Merlin’s words meant more to him than the firebender could ever possibly comprehend. He watched the ocean appear and vanish behind a fast-rising fog, trying to order his thoughts into something coherent. Merlin did not seem to need to hear anything from him, though, because he just leaned back on the railing and watched with Arthur, a small smile on his face.

After a time, Lancelot and Elena came out onto the catwalks, both looking awkward. “You two alright down here?” Elena asked a little too loudly. “We were getting a little worried.”

Lancelot looked between the two with a smile. “Tensions got a little high back there,” he said, laying a friendly hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “Just wanted to make sure everything was fine.”

Arthur almost laughed. Really nothing about his life right now was fine, to be honest, but he supposed it was going somewhere. He was realizing he _did_ have good allies---and perhaps friends. All he said was, “This fog is a good sign. It means we’re getting close to the North Pole, though it will make it hard to navigate.”

Lancelot nodded. “Should Elena and I go ahead and talk with them first?” It surprised Arthur that the airbender would defer to him.

“You should,” he replied. “The tribesmen can come and lead our ship in to the city.”

The two airbenders nodded their heads, then opened their ever-present gliders and swooped off into the mist. The last thing Arthur saw was Elena’s exultant grin, and then they were gone.


	8. The Northern Water Tribe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your continued support! Enjoy.

Arthur did not remember ever feeling so cold. Even during the winter in the Fire Nation, when snow fell on the highest peaks in the archipelago, there had always been a roaring fire and warm gloves on hand. Now, with limited layers, he shivered in the frigid North Pole air as he disembarked the waterskimmer.

Getting the Water Tribesmen to let them come into the city had been a process of a few hours. This Arthur had expected, as the blue-clad guards came up in their fast-moving boats and boarded the low-hanging airship. The advance guard carried sharp spears and long daggers, and there were a lot of questions and threats before they allowed Mithian, Arthur, and Lancelot to convince them they meant no harm. Then, they still did not let them bring the airship close to the city. Instead, they docked it at a manned outpost a couple miles off and went the rest of the way on the waterskimmers. The chill air whipping past only made Arthur feel colder, and he was annoyed to see that Lancelot and Elena did not seem affected by the cold at all, even dressed as they were in their thin Air Nomad clothing.

Gwen had chosen to sit in the other ship with Mithian, Elyan, and Leon. She had not spoken to him since his story about the Avatar.

Glaciers and icebergs rose up on all sides as they approached the Northern Water Tribe, and the water was littered with ice floes which the waterbenders guiding the ship avoided skillfully. Arthur leaned forward to see the white city coming towards them, feeling like he was being blinded by the afternoon sun reflecting off the snow. On his left, Merlin had his arms wrapped almost completely around himself. Arthur rolled his eyes. “Feeling a little cold there, Merlin? Could be your complete lack of muscles or really anything.”

Merlin’s glare was not as fierce when his nose was bright pink. “Not all of us have _your_ padding, Arthur,” he shot back.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Merlin . . . did you just call me fat?”

Merlin tried to grin around his chattering jaw. “Why, whatever gave you that idea, _sire_?”

Arthur’s quick retort was lost in the clamor as the boat started to dock. He wrinkled his nose at the strong scent of fish, watching waterbenders and tribesmen darting in every direction, tossing ropes and tying knots. Tribesmen on all sides pushed and pulled him out of the boat, with Merlin and the two airbenders following. Although she had been there earlier, Elena was gushing about the beauty of the city.

“---I’ve never seen so much ice in my life, Lancelot,” she crowed, ignoring the irritated looks she was garnering from their guards. “Do you think they get it from the glaciers so it’s extra-hard, or can they just pack the snow so tight it doesn’t fall over?”

“I wouldn’t know, Elena,” Lancelot replied. “I wonder which way to the Northern Spirit Portal? I’ve always wanted to visit there.”

Another platoon of Water Tribesmen guards were waiting for them on the docks. Their leader was a tall, blond man, who, despite the temperatures, did not have any sleeves. “Your Highness?” he addressed Arthur. “My name is Percival; I’m the lead Wolfguard for the Chief.”

Arthur and Percival shook hands. The prince saw Merlin was gaping at Percival’s huge, bare arms. “I am grateful to your chief of letting us come into the city,” Arthur said. “We have a lot of discuss with him.”

Percival turned to greet Princess Mithian and Leon while the rest of their group joined them, and soon the guards led them up towards the main city. A crowd was gathering, watching with many eyes and whispering with many mouths. A sense of disquiet was building around them, as the tribesmen took in Arthur’s and Merlin’s Fire Nation uniforms, looked over the green and brown of the Earthpeople, and saw Lancelot and Elena. The guards surrounded them on all sides, a protection for and against the madding crowd. Arthur resisted the urge to duck his head and lengthened his stride to keep up with the swiftly marching soldiers. The crowd of muttering citizens followed them up the side of a canal running the length of the city towards a large building, which Arthur assumed was their version of a palace.

Olaf, an older man with blond hair and a large nose, was waiting for them outside at the head of the canal. His expression when he saw Arthur was somewhat comical in his disbelief.

“I thought Percival was _joking_ when he said it was you, Prince Arthur!” he cried, stepping forward and taking Arthur’s outstretched hand. “Great spirits, how you’ve grown! It’s been over ten years since I saw you last.”

Arthur shook his hand, hiding his awkward feelings behind a warm smile. “Chief Olaf, I am glad to see you’re well. It’s been too long.”

Lady Vivian, Olaf’s beautiful blond daughter, stood behind him, looking skeptical. “Arthur?” she wondered. “I didn’t think it was possible for such an unpleasant youth to grow into a real man. However did you manage it?” Behind him, Arthur heard Merlin stifling a laugh. Resisting the urge to say something rude to either Vivian or Merlin, Arthur took the lady’s hand and kissed it.

“There comes a time when all of us have to learn a little humility, milady,” he said, hoping his comment did not sound _too_ pointed as he straightened up from his bow. “But we did not come to reminisce of old times, Chief Olaf.”

Olaf sobered a bit, then turned to greet his other visitors before ushering them towards the main meeting hall. “We’d better not waste any time,” he muttered. “If you’re here, Prince Arthur, that can only mean war.”

* * *

The council with Chief Olaf and his tribe was more formal than the one with the Air Nomads, and it took a lot longer while accomplishing quite a bit less. Olaf, although he was friendly enough, seemed unwilling to make any kind of commitment either for or against Arthur and Mithian.

“I’m telling you, m’lord,” Mithian said for what seemed like the twentieth time, “my mother has promised her aid. We will help protect your interests from the Fire Nation and the Southern Water Tribe.”

One of the council members leaned forward angrily. “Many of us have family and friends in the South,” he countered. “Are you expecting us to turn on them?”

“Cendred is being manipulated by Morgana as well, through the Southern waterbender Morgause,” another council member mused. “If we turn against her, we might be _saving_ them.”

“The Earth Kingdom has already fallen to the Fire Nation,” Olaf said. “And our tribe is not strong enough to take on Morgana and Cendred combined. You say you will talk with the Avatar, but what’s the guarantee he will join us? Perhaps he’ll try to make the best of hopeless situation and join her too.”

And so it went. Merlin had been right: Cendred had pushed Olaf to join Morgana, and now the chief was afraid. Even Mithian’s and Arthur’s promises meant nothing against the combined might of the Fire Nation and the Southern Water Tribe. Arthur felt his temper growing shorter and shorter as the day drew to a close, but at the same time he felt pity for Olaf. In his situation, the Fire Prince could not say what he would do. His eyes wandered around the council room, taking in Vivian sitting like a thundercloud beside her father, Percival watching closely from his place behind Olaf, Gwen looking uncharacteristically pale next to Lancelot, Mithian struggling to hold her temper in check. He thought, _We knew it was a hopeless cause from the beginning_. Their whole rebellion was quite pointless if they had no allies.

The topic went back and forth, between how many firebenders Morgana had to the possibility of swaying Cendred, from Annis’ fitness as Earth Queen to Elyan’s metalbending skills. Arthur’s back started to hurt from sitting so long.

Bad news came an hour or so after sunset. A sentinel came with the news that three airships had appeared, coming from the direction of the Air Nomads. Lancelot and Elena exchanged fearful looks, and Arthur hoped fervently that the Air Temple was unharmed. If the airships had reached them in the Northern Water Tribe, though, that seemed unlikely.

Olaf was upset with this news, but he sent the sentinel back saying to contact the airship and tell the Fire Nation guard they could bring three (“ _Three only!_ ”) ambassadors back to the city to plead their cause.

“I can already tell you what they’ll want,” Mithian said gloomily. “Us.”

Olaf’s face was unreadable, but his hand had reached out to hold his daughter’s tightly. “My duty is first and foremost to my people, Your Highness. They would not dare attack us, not with such a small force, but there might be more coming and I cannot risk my tribe.”

The conversation devolved again into the council members voicing their opinions. Leon jumped a little as a thought occurred to him, and he turned to Mithian. “Your Highness, we need to leave. If the Fire Nation soldiers see us, they will know your mother is involved.”

Arthur watched from his place on Mithian’s other side as she bit her lip, thinking. “No, Leon,” she answered slowly. “I think we need to stay.”

The Dai Li agent looked startled. “Princess Mithian---” he started, but she shook her head resolutely.

“We cannot ask Olaf to openly show his support for us, if we will not do the same for him,” she said. “We need to stay.”

Arthur did not miss the disquieted, if determined, expression on Mithian’s face as she sat back again. He knew she was thinking of her mother in the Earth Kingdom. He found himself admiring her commitment to this cause, then his eyes slid over to Gwen as she sat several chairs away, Lancelot on one side and Elyan on the other. He thought about how she had given up so much so that she could help in this cause, how she stuck fast to her beliefs and her friends.

He turned away again as his thoughts started to stray towards her dismissal of him.

Merlin, up to this point, had not ventured many comments, considering the tribesmen tended to disregard him offhand, but when Vivian made a derogatory remark about the Fire Nation citizens, Merlin immediately responded. “Milady, you’re wrong,” he said, too loudly. The council room went quiet as everyone turned to the firebender who had dared to speak in the Water Tribe. “Not all of the Fire Nation will side with Morgana, not if they know they have support.”

Vivian laughed. “They _do_ have support, soldier,” she said. “From their Firelord. _Your_ Firelord.”

Merlin’s jaw clenched at her scathing tone. “Do you have any idea how things are in the Fire Nation right now? Any of you? I may have been the only one to openly declare my support, but I am not the only citizen opposed to Morgana.”

“What could they have to complain about?” Olaf replied dismissively. “They have a bender for a Firelord, and an empire that is expanding to include all the nations.”

“What about a flagging economy?” Merlin challenged. Arthur raised a hand to try and quell his forceful tone, but Merlin ignored him. “What about a poverty rate higher than in Uther’s time? Law enforcement officers that use brutal force and abuse their power? I have lived in the Fire Nation only two years, Chief Olaf, and I have seen things that give me nightmares! Morgana may be the Firelord, but she has no love for her people. Even if she hadn’t attacked the Earth Kingdom, I don’t believe she would have been fit to rule.”

Everyone in the council room was staring at Merlin in shock. Arthur felt a little sick. He had guessed, during the months he spent in the Fire Nation dungeons, that Morgana was not a great replacement as the Firelord, but he had no idea how bad it had gotten. Merlin continued. “Even as a firebender in her court, life is difficult. I had to work very hard to keep myself in her good graces, and anyone who displeased her was severely punished. Even those she calls her allies are viewed as no more than resources to her, measured by what we can do for her. Uther may be dead, but for us in the Fire Nation, he lives on in his powerful daughter.”

“You’re right! She is powerful,” Olaf burst out, clenching his fists on the table. “How am I supposed to stand against her? We all remember what happened the day of Sozin’s Comet”---Mithian flinched at this---”I want my people to live! I’ve got to think about what’s best for them, about what will keep them safe.”

“Morgana is not your answer, Olaf,” Arthur said slowly. “You can either stand aside and watch as she takes over your world, or you can stand up and fight.”

“And if we die?” the chief asked softly.

Arthur swallowed harshly. “Then you will have died doing what you knew was right.”

Olaf scowled, his wrinkled face drawing together, even as another messenger returned with the news of the approaching delegates. “Bring them, I suppose,” he growled.

Thomas came in after the messenger, followed by two Fire Nation guards, and Arthur heard Merlin’s sharp intake of breath. Arthur did not bother to hide his satisfaction on seeing that the other firebender’s left arm was bandaged and bound to his torso. Thomas’ expression on seeing Merlin and Arthur could probably have lit a few bonfires, and he had to take a few moments to, presumably, prevent himself from starting an international war all by himself.

Olaf stood and gave a somewhat cold smile. “Delegates from the Fire Nation! To what do I owe this pleasure? As you can see, I already have plenty guests.”

“Yes, we knew that,” Thomas replied, his gaze turning away from Arthur and Merlin to pause on Mithian and Leon. His eyes widened slightly. “High-ranking guests, too! My, my, what could all of you be talking about?”

His flippant attitude and disrespectful tone was enough to put everyone on edge, and Olaf dropped any pretense of cordiality. “You forget who you are speaking to, firebender, and in whose court you stand.”

“No, I think you’re forgetting something, Chief Olaf,” Thomas replied. “Our Firelord grows impatient from the lack of news from you, and she might just decide to come down here herself to find out what your answer to her proposals are.”

“My answer will come in my own timing,” Olaf growled. “ _Not yours_.”

“Then it is possible all of us will be disappointed in what we want,” Thomas continued silkily. “But we don’t have to be. Firelord Morgana wants you to hand over a fugitive who escaped from her custody five years ago. The former Fire Prince Arthur. He may have escaped us at Ba Sing Se and the Air Temple, but we request you hand him over.”

“The Air Temple?” Elena cut in, her voice a little higher than usual. “Yes? And what happened there?”

Thomas took in her orange and yellow garb and sniffed. “You can count yourself lucky, airbender, that we had so few troops with us. As it was, we’re not stupid enough to attack an _Air_ Temple with an _air_ ship.” Elena and Lancelot both relaxed quite a bit. “Now, Chief Olaf, what will it be? One little fallen prince in exchange for the safety of your people?”

Olaf sighed and Arthur’s heart sank. Olaf was not being very friendly with Thomas, but if he thought handing over Arthur would curry favor with Morgana, he might just do it to save his tribe. Fortunately, Olaf replied: “You can tell Morgana that I don’t break promises to my guests. If she wants Arthur, she’ll have to wait until he meets her on her own soil, and not in the Northern Water Tribe. Now, you can take your disrespectful person out of my country and back onto your airship. Morgana’s answer will wait until _I’ve_ made up my mind.” The chief’s voice was firm and his eyes were dark. Arthur looked slowly between him and Thomas, gauging reactions, while Merlin did not seem to be able to take his eyes off his former partner.

Thomas chewed his lip for a second, eyes darting around the room, but he nodded. “As you wish, m’lord,” he replied, and bowed in a manner that was colder than the ice outside. “Just so you know, the moment _any_ of you step outside this Water Tribe, you will belong to the Firelord.” He gaze was directed at Merlin, and Arthur thought he looked hurt.

The guards that had led them in started lead them out, but one of them was called back by Olaf. “Percival,” he said to the tall, muscular Tribesman, “prepare the guest chambers for my guests. They’ll have to spend the night.” The guard nodded and headed out into the cold.

Mithian started to saying something, grinning, but Olaf cut her off with a grim face. “Please, Mithian, I’m not saying I will join you. I need more time to consider all of this, so I suggest we pause these proceedings and reconvene in the afternoon tomorrow. Rest tonight, and we will all clear our heads.”

* * *

“It’s definitely better than nothing,” Leon said, slumping down into the thick pile of furs that was his bed. “He’s considering it.”

Elyan made a face. “Why can’t he just make up his mind, already? We don’t have all the time in the world!”

The trudge through the wind and the icy snow to the guest chambers had been hard, and Merlin was shivering worse than ever. Luckily, a warm fire had been built up in the center of their hut, and he was leaning so close to the flames that Arthur had to resist the urge to pull him back and cuff him over the head.

“He’s just worried about the safety of his people, Elyan,” Arthur muttered. Elyan did not answer and turned himself a little away from Arthur, and the prince remembered that the two blacksmiths were still not talking to him. The hardest part about this had been when Percival had led them to their quarters, and he had seen Lancelot follow Gwen for a bit and give her hand a kiss before she scampered off to the hut she would be sharing with Mithian and Elena. He had clenched his jaw and turned away resolutely, because if even Gwen could be angry at him, he surely deserved it.

Merlin was playing with his boots, having just taken them off to dry them by the fire. “Do you think Olaf will support us?” he asked seriously. “He sounded angry.”

Arthur shook off his dark thoughts and frowned. “I don’t know. Even if he decides to join Morgana, I think he’ll let us go free, and anyone who decides to join us.”

“At any rate, this gives us a day or two to rest and recover from everything that’s happening. You lot have been going nonstop since you left the Earth Kingdom!” Lancelot, who had been acting a lot happier since the news of his Temple’s safety, nudged Merlin’s shoulder. “I wanted to go and see the Northern Spirit Portal tomorrow, before the council; want to come?”

Merlin grimaced. “Will it be cold?” Lancelot laughed, and Merlin joined in. “Alright, I’ll come, but only if I find some heavier clothes. With how cold it is, my firebending hasn’t been working very well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited this while listening to 'Fire Nation' by Two Steps from Hell. Very appropriate :)
> 
> Next chapter, Merlin and Lancelot travel to the Northern Spirit Portal and encounter a bit more than just spirits :D


	9. Spirit Portal

“Are you _sure_ you wouldn’t like to come?” Lancelot asked. “It’s the _Northern Spirit Portal._ ”

Elena shook her head. “I’m a spiritwalker, Lance. I can go see the Spirit Portal _in the Spirit World_ any time I like.” She patted his arm. “This might be the last peaceful day I get to spend with Mithian and Gwen, so you and Merlin go off on your little adventure. And please don’t get lost; I’ve heard there are wolves and all sorts of nasty things out there.”

He smiled softly. “Don’t worry about me, Elena. I have a firebender to protect me!” She whacked at him. They both felt happier and lighter than they had the day before; Elena had managed to get into contact with her family at the Northern Air Temple. Although Lancelot still felt a desire to go see his home with his own eyes, at least they knew that Thomas the firebender had not been lying.

The trip to the Spirit Portal had become a bit more complicated when none of the Water Tribesmen were able to accompany them. Percival had wanted to, but being one of Olaf’s chief guards had tied him up all day. “You really can’t miss the portal,” he told Lancelot. “Follow _that_ path down into the next valley, and you’ll know you’re close when the ice and trees grow twisted. Be careful.” Elyan had preferred to spend the day with Leon, the two earthbenders exploring the hidden depths of the Water Tribe city. Arthur, Lancelot supposed, was feeling too anxious about the council to go gallivanting around, and had chosen to stay behind.

In the end, only Merlin and Lancelot ended up going. Somehow they managed to find a suit of warmer clothes for Merlin to wear, which halted his moaning for a few minutes, and then headed out towards the path. Their three female companions were seated outside their hut with a few of the tribeswomen, talking about Lancelot did not know what. Gwen stood up and walked over to wish them well.

“Got everything you need? Food? Water? Warm enough?”

“I will never feel warm in this place,” Merlin replied, his voice a little muffled, as he had pulled his coat up until it covered his nose. Gwen laughed, a beautiful sound that had Lancelot’s heart beating quicker than normal. She looked lovely in a parka of white fur and blue cloth, her brown eyes sparkling in the morning sun. Lancelot had to stop himself from sighing at the mere sight of her.

“I’ll see you both in a couple hours, then,” the earthbender said. She gave Lancelot a shy smile, reaching out her hand for him to shake. “Make sure to come back in one piece.”

As they walked away, dodging buffalo yaks and hurrying tribesmen, Merlin shot Gwen a curious look over his shoulder.

“She seems to like you,” he said, his tone noncommittal.

Lancelot snuck his friend a sideways glance. He had not known Arthur and Gwen long, but he could tell they had been at least good friends, if not something more. Now, Gwen was drawing away from Arthur. Lancelot liked and respected the Fire Prince and did not wish him any kind of unhappiness, but he also liked Gwen a great deal. He supposed if she decided she preferred him over Arthur all by herself, he would not complain.

Of course, Merlin was Arthur’s friend, so it was understandable he was having mixed feelings about the whole thing.

“She’s a lovely woman,” Lancelot said, trying to sound objective and failing. “I’m glad to be getting to know her.”

Merlin nodded slowly and did not answer. They were coming up a rise above the city, and Lancelot looked back for a moment to admire the view. With the sun shining down brightly on the icy city, it was hard to look at, but he took in the fine architecture, filled with teeming life. The Water Tribe, it seemed, was a tight-knit group, which Lancelot liked. It reminded him of his home at the Temple.

Despite the fact that it was mostly a barren wilderness, the North Pole was really quite beautiful, Lancelot thought as they climbed the trail. Glaciers flowed down on every side, pushing between jagged hills towards the valleys below. Ice cliffs, reaching incredible heights, reared up around them. At one point on reaching the top of the first hill, they saw a large lake towards their left, surrounded by mountains. It was still far away, but there were huts and tents gathered on its shore, and Lancelot could see, further off, a group of turtle seals leaping in the water and climbing out again. It was a peaceful scene.

“I wonder why that lake doesn’t freeze?” Merlin asked. “Everything else here does.”

Lancelot shrugged. He had spent his whole life in the north, but that did not mean he understood this phenomenon.

“Let’s keep going,” he urged. “We should make the Spirit Portal within the hour.”

* * *

Merlin rubbed his gloved hands together, realizing he was starting to heartily dislike the North Pole. “How are you not _freezing_ in those clothes?” he demanded of Lancelot, who was walking easily and straight as opposed to Merlin’s hunched and shivering posture. Merlin conjured a flame in his hand; it appeared, but sputtered weakly and went out. “My firebending’s on the fritz, too.”

“I keep warm through an airbending technique, actually,” Lancelot replied. “Airbenders are able warm themselves with only a simple breathing exercise.” He took in a couple of carefully measured breaths to demonstrate, and Merlin raised an eyebrow. “From what I remember about firebenders, you create fire using the sun and your own body heat. So, when you’re in a cold climate, it’s hard for you to firebend because you are simply too cold to produce anything.”

Merlin burrowed his hands deeper into his armpits. “That’s really unfair. You’d think it would be the other way around.”

From his left, on top of a snow pile, came several low growls. Merlin flinched back, and saw two gray wolves peering down at them. He was quite used to wolves from living in the forests of the southern Earth Kingdom, but not having his firebending made him feel nervous.

Lancelot hissed and grabbed Merlin’s arm, pulling him back from the wolves, who were edging forward on the snow pile as if ready to jump. “I didn’t expect to see wolves during the day,” he admitted under his breath.

“Put your hands up,” Merlin ordered, raising his.

“Why?”

“Because it makes you look bigger, more intimidating!”

Lancelot looked confused, but he did it anyway. The wolves jumped down from their perch onto the main path, still snarling. Merlin and Lancelot started backing up quicker. “I don’t think it’s working,” Lancelot muttered, thinking fast. “Maybe we could---”

Barks and howls came from behind them on the path, and they whirled around see three more wolves advancing on them. “Hrm, well, this could be a problem,” Merlin squeaked. “And I am currently completely useless. Great.”

At a bark from one of the larger wolves, probably the leader, the pack closed in. Lancelot, still holding Merlin’s arm, whirled his arm around, dragging the two of them in a circle to raise a small whirlwind. The airbending move was not as powerful and effective without his staff, and wolves only flinched for a second before jumping forward again. Two of them launched at Merlin, sensing the weakest link, and three went after Lancelot.

Merlin was surprised and satisfied to discover that the little hand-to-hand combat he had learned in the Fire Nation guard still remained with him. He managed to kick one wolf away, but struggled with the other one, a bigger and stronger animal. He pushed its jaws away from him and circled around til his back was facing Lancelot. The airbender was leaping and spinning through the air, leading the wolves on a merry chase as they tried to catch something---anything---of him. Airbending seemed to lack a lot of offensive, deadly moves, but Merlin could not deny that it certainly looked cool.

He did not have much time to admire Lancelot’s form, though, as the two wolves facing him regrouped and charged, one on either side. Panicked, Merlin dived to the side to avoid them, and felt the bigger wolf’s jaws barely miss closing around his calf. The bigger one sprawled on the ground, but his smaller companion leaped neatly to land right on top of Merlin, claws scratching and jaw snapping. Merlin kicked out, blood pumping hot through his veins, trying to get a hold on the wolf’s throat to keep from biting his face off. There was hardly any leverage, though, and the wolf’s hind feet were keeping his legs pinned.

Letting out a cry of frustration and fear, Merlin punched at the wolf, willing for his firebending to work, willing for _something_ to work.

There was a great _WHOOOSH_ of noise like something coming up from behind, and a blast of air slammed into the wolf; Merlin stared in astonishment as it flew off of him and hit the far icewall, rebounding to the ground where it lay still. He glanced towards Lancelot, but the airbender was struggling with the last wolf. Then where had that blast of air come from? Had he just hit the wolf really, really, really hard? Somehow he doubted that, but he looked at his fist with some measure of respect.

Lancelot had, by this point, proven beyond Merlin’s doubt that he was an excellent addition to their team by successfully routing the other wolves. Only one, the pack leader by the size of him, still stood several feet away, growling at the airbender as he backed away slowly. Lancelot stood firm, daring him to come back for more.

When the wolves finally raced away into the snow, Lancelot turned to Merlin, a strange expression on his face. “How did you do that?” he breathed.

“You mean _you_ didn’t do that?” Merlin questioned. When Lancelot shook his head firmly, Merlin hesitated. “Well, I must be stronger than I look,” he said doubtfully.

Lancelot shook his head, moving towards the firebender. “No, Merlin, I don’t think that was strength. That was definitely something else.”

“Well, it must have been some kind of, uh, fire-less firebending then,” Merlin said, “because otherwise, it would have to have been---”

“I know---”

“---and that’s impossible.”

“I know. But it looked like---”

“I’m a firebender, not an---”

“---airbending.”

They stared at each other for a second, then Merlin laughed. “Look at us, like two eagle hawks in water! We don’t have a clue what just happened! But you’re an Air Nomad, you should know better than anyone that I _cannot_ be an airbender.”

Merlin turned around to continue following the path and missed Lancelot’s contemplative expression.

* * *

Merlin had a small scratch on his arm that Lancelot was worried about, but he insisted they finish the trip to the Spirit Portal. Eventually the path started to slope down in the direction of the lake, and they started to see glimpses of it through the jagged ice rising around them. The two chatted for a bit about inconsequential things, but then Merlin grew curious, as was his wont. “So tell me about these Spirit Portals. I’ve never even heard of them! What are they?”

“No one really pays them much attention anymore,” the airbender admitted. “I know about them because Elena mediates and travels to the the Spirit World quite often. She mentioned them, and so I looked them up. Most of the information on them is incredibly old and probably wrong, but from what I can understand, they used to be gates between the physical and spirit worlds. Nowadays, humans can only pass into the Spirit World through spirit traveling, but in the olden times, they say the portals were open and clear so that we could enter physically.”

“How were they closed? And why?”

Lancelot turned around a bit while they were talking, as if he heard something, but the airbender answered without a significant change in expression.

“No one knows anymore. Not even the spirits, although Elena has asked. Spirits can sometimes pass through the portals into our world, but it’s difficult even for them, and it makes them vulnerable.” Again, Lancelot glanced behind him and around, a furrow starting in his brow. It was starting to make Merlin feel nervous, and he stumbled a bit in the snow, hoping Lancelot wasn’t hearing the wolves coming back. He was still feeling jumpy after that unexpected attack.

“What is it?” Merlin asked nervously. “Do you see something?”

“The wind keeps bringing a strange sound to me,” Lancelot confessed, turning his head in every direction. “Like a jangling noise.”

Merlin immediately imagined all sorts of things that could make jangling noises: harnesses, keys, bells, cooking pans . . . chains . . . He gulped. “This place is eerie,” he muttered, pulling his coat tighter around him. “Why did we come out here?”

Lancelot did not answer, still trying to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. Merlin realized he could not hear it too, a rhythmic _clank clank clank_ underscored by what he was sure were running footsteps. The sound was coming closer and closer, but the ice and the cliffs around them made the noises echo in every direction, so Merlin could not have said whether the noise was approaching from before or behind . . . or somewhere else.

 _Spirits portals_ , he thought fearfully. _Could it possibly be a spirit? A vengeful spirit from the other world?_ His breathing was speeding up, and he hoped to the high heavens that their previous fight had finally warmed him enough to let him produce fire.

“There!” Lancelot cried, pointing to where the snow rose to a low hill on his left, and Merlin jerked around to see a dark four-legged shape appear at the top and begin racing down towards them. The wolves were back! Fire ignited, almost by instinct, in his palm, and at his side Lancelot tensed.

Before Merlin could react more, the wolf had launched itself at him and tackled him to the ground. Expecting to have his throat torn out, Merlin gave a screech and threw out a blast of fire that, while quite impressive for such a cold climate, totally missed. But the wolf did not bite him. It was, in fact . . . licking him?

 _Hold up,_ his brain said, about ten seconds too late, _that’s not a wolf._ Indeed, it was a gigantic, furry, brown _dog_.

Lancelot, Merlin could see, was laughing uncontrollably at Merlin’s disgusted expression as the dog put saliva on every inch of his face. The jangling sound they had heard was coming from a collar the dog was wearing. And the footsteps, it seem, came from the dog’s owner, who came on the top of the rise just after Merlin managed to push the enthusiastic, furry mutt off of him. “Halig!” she cried, then slid down the little hill to stumble over to the two benders, bending the snow to make the passage faster and easier. “I am _so_ sorry! I managed to lose him for two seconds! Halig!”

The speaker was a young, pale girl with stringy dark hair. She wrung her hands nervously, even as Lancelot jumped to reassure her.

“We were a little startled, milady, but no harm done,” Lancelot said, trying to pull Merlin to his feet while the huge dog jumped everywhere. “You have a very friendly dog there.”

She gave a nervous laugh, not looking either of them in the eye. “Well, we wish he weren’t so friendly with the _wolves_ , but to be sure, at least he’s not dangerous.”

Merlin, having managed to right himself, regain his breath, and wipe most of the spit off of his mouth, was about to give the girl a piece of his mind, really he was. He was cold, tired, scratched, fearful, and had just been licked half to death. So, he rounded on her, took a deep breath . . . and she actually looked up at him.

She had deep, deep dark eyes.

He forgot what he was about to say. “Uh,” he managed intelligently.

The dog, Halig, finally settled down a little bit at her side, and there was a moment of silence where Merlin stared dumbly at the girl and the girl stared nervously at Merlin.

“Er, we’re glad you got your dog back,” Lancelot finally said, figuring Merlin would not be joining the conversation soon. She jumped and blinked.

“Oh, of course. I really am _so_ sorry! Is there anything I can do to make up for it?”

Merlin rejoined the conversation so fast his brain did not have time to catch up. “Oh, that’s just Merlin! Er, I mean, that’s just fine!”

He could feel himself blushing furiously. Lancelot was laughing again, but silently.

After a moment’s pause, the girl gave a small, shy smile that made Merlin relax a little bit. Hopefully that meant she did not think the two were serial killers wandering the frozen wastes. “Well, let me know. My name is Freya, and I live down by the lake. Where are you two off to, anyway? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.” She was looking with some confusion at Lancelot’s yellow and red garb.

“We’re not from around here,” Lancelot said, having regained his composure. “I’m from the Northern Air Temple, and we were just traveling to see the Spirit Portal.”

Her eyes lit up. “You came with the Fire Prince and the Earth Princess!” When they nodded, her smile was much more enthusiastic. “Since we don’t live in the city proper, we don’t hear a lot about what’s going on.” Her look turned thoughtful. “If you are new to the Water Tribe, perhaps I could escort you to the Spirit Portal? I have been there many times. Halig could be our guard. Perhaps you could explain to me about all the things that have been happening beyond our shores.”

The dog looked up when he heard his name and wriggled his rear end enthusiastically. Merlin, not trusting himself to say anything coherent or unembarrassing, merely looked at Lancelot, who smiled, trying not to smirk at Merlin’s poleaxed expression. “We would be honored, milady.”

Freya was not particularly talkative, it turned out, but she listened intently as Lancelot (and later Merlin, when his heart rate had slowed down) described the conditions in the world outside. She gasped at all the right parts when Merlin gave a thrilling retelling of their escape from Ba Sing Se, and asked a few pertinent questions when Lancelot briefly recounted their future plans. Halig bounded ahead, then came back to run behind again, his long pink tongue lolling out several inches. By the time they reached near the Spirit Portal, Merlin was thoroughly smitten---and he could not bring himself to care. He knew he was probably acting like a right fool every time she looked at him, feeling his heart speed up whenever they stepped close, admiring how she bent a small snow pile out of their way. He had not felt this way since he first met Morgana.

The path that Freya led them on ended by sloping down into a valley filled with twisted trees and strange ice formations. Merlin shivered a little at the convoluted shapes, thinking it looked like a whole army of people being tortured. The effect was very creepy, and he almost wished they had turned back. Then he saw the fascinated look in Lancelot’s eye and decided to grin and bear it. Of course, if they had gone back after the wolf attack, he never would have met Freya, he thought as he eyed the slim girl out of the corner of his eye. She was traipsing through the roots and branches with the ease of someone who had done it many times, a small smile on her lips.

After they had been tromping through the trees for a few minutes, a strange purple light began shining through the trees, something that felt unnatural and out of place in this cold, white land. All the same, Merlin found himself compelled to move towards the light at an even faster pace than Lancelot, tripping on roots and branches in his attempt to reach it, Halig panting right at his heels. Freya panted out a soft “Wait!” but, for the first time since looking into her eyes, he had forgotten her.

At the center of the forest, an icy dome shot through with purple and red light sat waiting for them. There was no birdsong or sound of any kind as the three benders crept towards it. Despite his haste to get there, Merlin had never been so fascinated or repulsed by something in his life. He felt at once a strange urge to touch it and a desire to run in the other direction. It was beautiful and horrifying. He moved forward as in a trance, putting out his hand to reach the surface. He could feel a slight heat radiating from the dome, despite its icy look. Lancelot grabbed his arm, startling both Merlin and Freya.

“Um, Merlin? I wouldn’t touch it if I were you.”

Merlin pulled his hand back as if burned. “Why not?”

Lancelot shrugged, watching his face closely. “Just . . . you never know what might happen.”

“It’s a bit strange, isn’t it?” Freya commented, watching their reactions. “I’ve touched it many times, myself. Nothing ever happens.”

Merlin looked back at the dome. “You say there are only two of these in the world?”

“Yes, this one, and one at the South Pole.”

Merlin’s brow furrowed. “Then why do I feel like I’ve been here before? Seen this somewhere?”

Lancelot was not listening. He was peering around in the trees to his right, eyes narrowed. “What?” Merlin asked, following the airbender’s gaze but seeing nothing. Halig, who had been nosing in the icy soil to their left, was now standing stock still, watching in the same direction as Lancelot.

The airbender shook his head. “I just---hang on, I think I see something.”

He moved off into the forest, steps light and quick. Merlin was curious, but his eyes turned back to the dome of the Spirit Portal. He could again see Freya out of the corner of his eye, watching him curiously, but the purple light shining from the portal was entrancing, and he found himself reaching forward to touch the ice. He wondered what it would feel like, wondered what it would take to get the ice to crack, for the portal to open---

Just before his fingers reached the smooth surface, Halig started barking furiously, racing forward into the trees where Lancelot had disappeared. Merlin’s hand dropped and he whipped around. Then, he heard a yell emanating from those same trees. Lancelot was nowhere to be seen.

“Lancelot?” he yelled, sprinting forward to where he had last seen his friend, with Freya at his heels. “Lancelot!”

There was no answer, but he found the airbender slumped on the ground behind a lightning-struck tree, unconscious. The dog was crouched a few feet away, growling. Heart pounding, Merlin shook Lancelot a bit and checked for injuries. He could see no blood or cuts anywhere.

“It’s times like these that I wish I knew how to heal, but I’m only a spiritbender,” Freya muttered. Merlin wondered briefly what that was, but most of his attention was focused on the prone airbender before him.

Abruptly, Lancelot sat up, his eyes wide. Merlin and Freya flinched back in surprise. “Lancelot, are you alright? What happened?” The airbender stared at him for several moments as if he did not quite understand the question. Merlin touched his head, fearing brain damage, when Lancelot responded. “No, I’m fine. I just slipped and hit my head.”

“Did you see anyone?” Merlin asked, starting to feel unnerved by Lancelot’s unblinking eyes.

“Oh, no, I was mistaken,” he replied, voice strangely soft. “There was no one here.”

Lancelot stood, with Merlin following. “Er, are you sure you’re alright?” the firebender asked, worried. Lancelot looked towards the Spirit Portal, the purple light shining off of his dark eyes. Freya was now clutching Halig close as he growled softly at Lancelot. The airbender turned back to Merlin and smiled warmly.

“Never been better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)


	10. The Lamia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a little late; I was on vacation for Thanksgiving and did not have a lot of time to write or post. Good thing, though, I was able to meet with my beta in person to discuss some of the later chapters! :D This story really is a lot better because of her help.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Elena and Gwen were watching with hands over their mouths in fear as Arthur and Percival beat each other up. They were sitting on a side bench by the training grounds, shivering even though the sun was almost overhead. The prince and his opponent, however, were dressed in thinner clothing, prepared for physical exertion.

“This is supposed to be fun?” Elena muttered, wincing as Arthur landed a hit on Percival’s bare arm with the flat of his long knife. “At this rate, they will be too injured to fight in any war.”

“I don’t really understand it, to be sure,” Gwen replied, watching closely as Percival tried to land a hit and Arthur simply flipped him over onto the ground. Again. “Elyan likes this sort of stuff as well, though he’s more into wrestling. I’m surprised he hasn’t requested to have a go.”

The only rule had been no bending, and so far Arthur was winning. Percival was strong and good with a sword even if he was not allowed to waterbend, but Arthur was a natural at fighting.

“You’d make a good waterbender,” Percival remarked as Arthur helped him up. “Turning my strength against me like that---classic. I should have known better.”

“And I don’t even know anything about waterbending tactics,” Arthur teased, grinning. Gwen could not believe the change that had come over him in the days since their escape from Ba Sing Se. Arthur the Chimney Sweep had always be restrained, quiet, afraid to draw too much attention to himself. Hiding his true potential behind a veneer of soot. Now, he had roared to life like a bonfire, smiling more, talking more and with greater authority, looking everyone in the eye where before he had not. This was a strange, new Arthur, and honestly, Gwen liked it. She liked that he was coming into his own and accepting his place in the world. Unfortunately, him being the Fire Prince also brought heavy baggage, such as what he had told them about the Avatar . . .

The waterbender and the prince began sparring again; this time Percival was showing Arthur waterbending moves, bringing up the snow and melting it, and Gwen watched as the water formed and reformed in the air. Unlike earthbending, which relied on sure and solid defense, waterbending was all about change, being quick and unpredictable like the ocean. Like with her kingdom, Gwen sensed a solid and steady nature behind the Water Tribesmen as well. They were loyal and true, just like her people. This place was a good place. Now, if only she had been able to come here under less dangerous circumstances.

The three Fire Nation airships had backed off, but the sentinels reported they were still hovering around the Water Tribe, waiting for Arthur and his followers to leave the safety of the North Pole. Gwen knew that Thomas could not keep his soldiers there indefinitely---there was always a need for food, water, and fuel---but she shivered at the thought of being trapped.

She looked up at the sun. It was a bit harder to judge time in this unfamiliar latitude, but she guessed it was nearing lunchtime. Soon, they would eat, and then the council would join again. Olaf had been locked up with his closest council members since before breakfast, talking together about what the tribe would do. His guests had been left to their own devices since then. Merlin and Lancelot had headed off to the Spirit Portal, whatever that was, Leon and Elyan had gone off somewhere, and Arthur was, it seemed, adding even more anti-bending skills under his belt. She hoped their innocent pursuits would endear them to the tribesmen. Percival, at least, seemed to be enjoying his time with the prince; as the chief Wolfguard for Olaf, his support could be critical in gaining allies for the war.

As if reading her mind, Elena said, “What do you think will happen this afternoon? Will Olaf throw us out?”

Gwen bit her lip uncertainly. “I don’t know what he’ll do,” she confessed. “He’s worried for his tribe.”

Mithian came strolling up behind them, deep in conversation with a little old woman. Gwen watched them for a moment feeling sorry for her princess who was just trying to save their nation. This war was putting a lot of pressure on them all.

“Alice!?”

The unexpected cry came from Arthur as he came over, dripping with sweat despite the cold, covered in bruises, and smiling all the same. He was looking at the women next to Mithian. “Is that really you, Alice?”

The woman smiled softly. “Yes, it is, Prince Arthur. I hadn’t thought I would ever see you again, after the coup. I’ve heard you were hiding in the Earth Kingdom all this time, you sneaky boy!”

He almost held out his hand to her, then seemed to think better of it. “And what happened with you? How did you end up in the North?”

Alice smiled slyly. “Did you think I was from the Fire Nation? I am a waterbender from the Northern Water Tribe.” She chuckled at his surprise. “How do you think I was such a good physician? Waterbenders have healing hands.”

From her other side, Elena turned, and then slipped off the bench. Gwen turned to look where she was going, and saw Lancelot and Merlin walking towards them. The airbender was walking straight and tall and calm as usual, but she saw Merlin was a little bit ahead, as if he was trying to escape his companion. She frowned; had they had an argument?

“After the coup, Morgana wanted me to stay on as the primary court physician, since Gaius had escaped, but even though I loved to see bending free again, I could not agree with her methods. I had hoped the executions would stop when she became Firelord.”

This caught Gwen’s attention again. “There were still executions after Uther died? I thought bending was legalized!” She almost caught Arthur’s eye as he looked towards her, but she looked away at the last second, her heartbeat quickening.

“It was,” Alice responded. “But anyone who dared oppose Morgana in any way was severely punished.” Arthur did not look surprised by any of this, but he had spent a few months in Morgana’s dungeons himself; he was probably familiar with her methods.

Merlin came up beside Arthur at that moment, and Gwen frowned at his expression. His eyebrows were drawn together and he kept glancing back towards Lancelot. “Um, we’re back,” he said. Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“ _Really_ , Merlin, we hadn’t noticed.”

Gwen reached out and touched a tear in Merlin’s thick jacket, alarmed to see blood. “Merlin, what happened? Are you hurt?”

“What? That? We just ran into a couple wolves, no harm done,” the firebender responded, but as Lancelot and Elena came up Gwen could not help but notice that he looked extremely uncomfortable. “The Spirit Portal was pretty boring, honestly. Just a bunch of ice. Though we did meet a nice girl who offered to show us around a bit.”

“It’s a lot more than ‘a bunch of ice,’ young man,” Alice said reprovingly.

“Merlin, meet Alice,” Arthur said. “She was a physician in the Fire Nation capital when I was growing up. Alice, this is Gaius’ nephew.”

The two greeted each other warmly, and Gwen observed Lancelot, still wondering what was wrong. He and Elena were close friends, as Gwen knew, but now he did not seem to even hear her questions and chattering. Instead, his eyes were focused on Arthur, and Gwen did not like the look he had. It was like he was sizing up an opponent.

Before she could say anything, Lancelot stepped forward. “Prince Arthur, would you care to go a round with me? I’d like to see how I match up.”

Arthur blinked at the request, and frowned at the airbender. “Perhaps later, Lancelot,” he replied. “It’s almost lunchtime, and we need to be prepared for the council meeting.”

Lancelot gave a short, strange laugh that did not sound like him as he turned to go out onto the training grounds. “Don’t worry, sire, this won’t take long. I am sure I can beat you before time comes for lunch.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes at this, and Gwen’s heart sank. Surely Arthur would not back down from such an obvious putdown. What was really strange was that saying something like that was not like Lancelot at all. Even Mithian, who probably knew him the least well in their group, was gaping. Merlin looked downright worried.

“Arthur,” the firebender said quickly as he saw the prince preparing to go after Lancelot. “This is really not a good idea. I think Lancelot might have hit his head. Please, just wait til later, alright?” Arthur, of course, did not listen, and Merlin watched him go helplessly. “This is not right,” he muttered.

Gwen leaped to her feet and went to stand next to him. “What is the matter with him?” she whispered, watching as the two men faced off against each other in fighting stances. “He’s not acting like himself.”

“No, he’s not. I don’t know what’s wrong!”

“Did he seem at all angry at Arthur today?” Mithian asked. “Did you talk about him?”

“No! I mean, we did a bit,” Merlin replied, and he cast Gwen a short glance out of the corner of his eye; her heart sank, because that meant he and Lancelot had surely discussed her and Arthur. “I don’t know what happened; he’s been acting strange since we left the Spirit Portal.”

Alice shifted sharply. “The Spirit Portal? What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Merlin confessed. “I think he might have hit his head, which would make fighting a bad idea even if he were acting like himself, which he’s _not_. I wondered if maybe he might have been attacked, but I don’t know by what. Freya didn’t seem worried by it, and I suppose she is the local. I wish she hadn’t had to go home.”

Gwen clutched Merlin’s arm and looked around for Percival, but the big guard had disappeared when Alice showed up. Lancelot had requisitioned his blade, and he and Arthur was circling each other slowly, waiting for a moment to strike. Percival and Arthur’s sparring had had a playful, friendly feel to it, but this---this felt menacing.

“Do you think he could be possessed? I mean, you were _at_ the Spirit Portal.” Elena asked, her face anxious and fearful. Out of all of them, she probably knew the most about spirits and dangers they posed.

Alice shook her head. “Can’t have been. It’s been more than a hour, and spirits can’t possess humans that long. Within a few minutes, a human host will die and the spirit is ejected.” Gwen grimaced, still worrying. Lancelot had taken the first swipe, and now they were locked in a flurry of blades and fists, too fast for her to pick out individual moves. She wondered where Lancelot had learned to fight like that if Air Nomads were so peaceful.

Elena’s expression had changed to thoughtful. “Not necessarily,” she said slowly. “There are spirits that I’ve heard of in the Spirit World who _can_ possess a human for a few hours at a time. They would be powerful enough to travel over to this world, too.” She turned to Merlin. “Did he say much on the walk back?”

“No, not really,” he muttered. “Mostly kept quiet, which is strange because he’s normally chatty with me.”

Mithian gasped. “Look!”

The fight had taken a turn for the worst, on Arthur’s side. He had obviously forgotten to specify no bending, because Lancelot had pushed him over onto the ground with a blast of air and was now taking advantage of his position over the prince. “We have to do something _now_ ,” Merlin gasped, racing forward. Arthur had managed to pull Lancelot’s feet out from under him, and the two were now wrestling on the ground. Arthur did not seem to want to hurt Lancelot, but Lancelot certainly seemed to be trying to hurt Arthur.

Gwen gathered her earthsense as Arthur threw Lancelot off of him, and sent up spurs of rock to trap the airbender. It hurt her to do something like this to a friend, but it had to be done. The earth wrapped around Lancelot’s right arm and leg where they connected with the ground, and Gwen thought for sure she had him. Then, with a roar that chilled her spine, Lancelot broke through the earth and jumped to his feet again, ready again to barrel at Arthur. His eyes were glowing a malevolent green. There were shouts of alarm coming from around them as the tribesmen---finally!---figured out something was wrong.

Gwen gaped, mirrored by her companions. He should not have been strong enough to break through her bending like that.

Whatever was inside Lancelot seemed to abandon all pretense of hiding, and rushed the prince, only to be stopped by thick ribbons of water rising up and twining around him. Instead of binding him fast, they swirled in a spiral pattern around him. Gwen turned to see Alice moving her arms, face concentrating on her foe. The water spirals were starting to shine brightly, turning a color like the full moon. Lancelot gave another cry as his body started to glow too, the light moving up until it covered all of him, encasing him. “You cursed humans!” he yelled, struggling against his bonds. “My mistress will get you for this! The prince must die!”

When Alice released Lancelot from his glowing bonds, he slumped forward to the ground, unconscious.

* * *

“I know what you are,” Elena whispered quietly. “There’s no point hiding.”

Chief Olaf moved up to stand behind her as she faced Lancelot, who was heavily bound in a sturdy chair. He had been extremely displeased to find out what happened at the Northern Spirit Portal, and Arthur felt a sinking sense that he was probably going to tie weights to their feet and toss them for the tiger seals. After Alice had subdued Lancelot with what she called spiritbending, the chief had been summoned to do damage control.

“You have been in my nation for _one day_ , Prince Arthur,” he groaned, somehow managing not to shout.

Then they had to find a way to contain the spirit and remove it from Lancelot. Luckily, Elena and Alice had an idea.

“Elena is a spirit traveler,” Alice explained. “If she can leave her body and connect with this spirit, she might be able to drag it out of Lancelot.”

“But then we’d have to deal with it in the real world, of course,” Elena said doubtfully.

Olaf shook his head, mouth firm. “Leave that to us. I have other spiritbenders I can call on as well. You just get it out of him and we’ll deal with it.”

Now, they stood in a small hut close to the palace, with Merlin, Mithian, Gwen, and a few tribesmen. Arthur felt nervous being in such a small, enclosed space with a monster of unknown power, but he did not really have a say over what happened. Lancelot had finally regained consciousness and was struggling against his bonds.

“You don’t know me, human,” he snarled.

“But I do,” Elena replied confidently. Arthur noticed how she seemed a lot calmer and quieter than the chatty, spastic airbender she normally was. This, he thought, was her true element, conversing and dealing with spirits. “I’ve been traveling into the Spirit World since I was a little girl, and I’ve done a lot of study into it. So has Lance. I can tell you that there are only a handful of spirits with the ability to possess humans for as long as you have without burning them out, and with the power to pass in between worlds. You’ve also mentioned your mistress, which I can only assume means Queen Mab, the ruler of the Spirit World. Not all spirits willingly follow her orders, so that leaves me with only one option.”

With a smug look, the blond airbender threw out her information like a challenge. “You’re _the Lamia_. A spirit who possesses men and bends them to her will. An attack dog sent by Queen Mab.”

Lancelot, his face now calm and clear, lifted his head and smiled a little, creepy smile. “Yes, I am the Lamia. You should fear me, young one. I come from the court of Queen Mab herself.”

Olaf leaned forward threateningly. “Why does Mab want Prince Arthur dead?” he demanded.

The Lamia sneered. “You really are as stupid as you look. Why do you think?”

A jolt of comprehension came through Arthur. “Queen Mab has allied with Morgana, hasn’t she? That’s why she sent you to kill me.” His shoulders slumped in frustration; it seemed like Morgana was gaining strength on every hand.

Lancelot laughed, and it turned Arthur’s stomach. “Yes, she has. The Firelord has many allies, Chief Olaf. Are you sure you want to turn your back on her?”

Olaf stepped back, his face blank. “I will not be bullied into joining Morgana, dark spirit. I didn’t let her do it, and you cannot either.” Lancelot’s smile was a little more forced this time.

“You’re only putting off the inevitable, Olaf,” he said, and his eyes seemed to be glowing slightly green. “It’s better to give up now and join her. Soon, all the nations will belong to the Firelord.”

Arthur was alarmed to see a similar green appearing in Olaf’s eyes. What was it Elena had said, that the Lamia could influence men? He jumped forward quickly and, feeling only _slightly_ guilty, slapped Lancelot across the face. Elena and Gwen flinched forward for a second, then back. “Stop it!” he cried. “You keep your claws out of Olaf.” He turned to Elena. “You’d better get that monster out quickly, before it does permanent damage to someone.” _Or I permanently damage Lancelot,_ he thought.

Elena nodded and settled herself comfortably on the ground facing Lancelot; the Lamia inside of him sneered. “There’s no way you’ll be able to send me out, you pathetic creature,” he snarled. “I am too powerful for you!”

Elena’s face was determined. “We’ll see about that.”

They gagged the Lamia so that he would be quiet while she was meditating, then sat around them a circle to wait for whatever was going to happen. Arthur felt tense, his eyes flickering between the two still figures. He had never observed someone spirit travel before, so did not know what to expect. Odin and the other tribesmen looked calm and patient, but Merlin, sitting next to Arthur, kept on fidgeting.

“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur hissed after putting up with this for several minutes, “ _stay still_. You’re making me anxious.”

“Sorry,” his companion murmured, relieving his feelings by biting on his nails instead.

Without warning, Lancelot started to shake and jerk in his bonds, his back and neck arching with tension. Arthur and Merlin jumped to their feet, the prince drawing his long knife. Without warning, Lancelot’s eyes shone a bright, disturbing green, and something burst from his chest. At the same time, Elena took a strong breath and opened her eyes.

Arthur’s mouth fell open as he saw the Lamia spirit. It was not a lovely sight. The Lamia was green, with long tentacles growing out of its face and sides. Two whiplike tails and no visible legs gave it the appearance of a huge snake, or perhaps a centipede. Instead of a snake’s head, though, the Lamia had a face of a woman. Arthur remembered Elena calling it ‘she.’

 _She_ roared at them, her glowing green eyes terrifying in the dim light of the tent. Before Arthur or anyone else could do anything, she had dived through the door of the hut and outside. Olaf, swearing loudly, followed. Arthur glanced back at Lancelot and Elena before following. Lancelot seemed to be unharmed, if woozy, and Elena was caressing his face and whispering to him.

The rest of them followed Olaf out, drawing weapons. The Lamia was caught in an altercation with Leon and Elyan a little ways off, the two earthbenders throwing huge blocks of stone they had broken out of the ice. She avoided the attacks and soared higher, trying to get away. “She’s heading towards the docks!” Percival yelled, trying to muster his confused soldiers.

“Get the spiritbenders!” Olaf roared, running forward with his sword drawn. “We need all the backup we can!”

“Merlin!” Alice stumbled forward, panting. “Merlin, we need your help too. Fire hurts spirits more than anything else. You’ll need to be in the front of the lines.” Merlin stared at her and gulped a little. Olaf was still yelling in the background for backup.

A girl with long dark hair had appeared at Merlin’s elbow. She was holding a beautiful sword in one hand. He turned and jumped a little at the sight of her. “Freya! What are you---”

She cut him off. “I don’t know what caused me to bring this today---well, actually I do---I think this will be more useful in your hands,” she said, and thrust the sword at Merlin.

Merlin looked at it like it was poisonous. “I---I don’t know how to use a sword!”

“Give it to the prince then,” Olaf bellowed, “and get out there! Freya, where is your mother? I need you two out there fighting that spirit!”

The girl jumped a little at his loud voice and bowed. “Yes, m’lord!” She clutched Merlin’s arm for a second. “Give it to the prince,” she whispered over the pandemonium. “I don’t think that little knife will help against a spirit.” Then she was gone.

Merlin and Arthur exchanged a look, then the firebender slowly took the sword by the blade and handed it to the prince. “For you,” he said.

It really was a beautiful sword, Arthur thought, with a strange blade made of dark metal, shot through with gold. There were words carved on the sides. He could tell it was old and well-made. Much better than his long knife, at any rate. He shook thoughts of the sword out of his mind, and focused on the task at hand. “Come on, Merlin, we’re needed out there. Especially you.”

They followed the screams. The Lamia had almost reached the docks, her green spirit-tendrils gleaming. In the bright sun, she looked transparent, but clearly was not as she sent tribesmen flying in every direction. Water and ice slowed her down, but did not permanently affect her. Arthur wondered what her purpose was in heading down to the ocean. Was she going to destroy the Water Tribe navy? Or fly out to the airships and bring them in for an attack? His heart squeezed in fear. They had to stop her first.

Among the soldiers were Freya and another woman, probably her mother. They were gathering streams of water and slinging them around the Lamia, just as Alice had done earlier. The spirit, intent on Percival and his guards, did not notice until the two women had already started waving their arms in the spiritbending form, their faces creased in concentration.

The Lamia screeched, feeling the light start to radiate up her tail and legs, trapping her. Merlin and Arthur came to a halt many feet away, waiting for the two spiritbenders to finish their work.

Before the light had radiated up to her face, the Lamia screamed again. “NOOOOOO!!!” The light flashed green, and everyone surrounding her was thrown to the ground as she broke through the water chains. Freya and her mother went crashing into the building behind her and slumped forward, dazed.

Arthur gulped and patted Merlin on the back. “That’s your cue, Merlin.”

They ran forward together. Arthur had no idea what a sword could do against a spirit when even bending had not hurt it, but he was not going to stop trying. Slowly, the Lamia turned to face them, snickering. “You cannot keep me here,” she taunted. “I will find another vassal to do my bidding.”

Merlin had not stopped speeding towards her. “No, you won’t,” he panted, and slammed a fireball right into her face. She roared and swung away. “You are going back in the Spirit World where you belong.” Again he swung at her; this time she was quicker and darted to the side, trying to escape. Percival and a couple other guards had gotten to their feet, and they quickly released a volley of ice towards her, pushing her back towards Merlin again.

The Lamia howled again as Merlin’s fireblasts landed on her. Alice was right; fire had a more damaging effect on her than anything else, and she knew it. With a cry of rage, the Lamia turned and hurtled towards Merlin, moving faster than the waterbenders could react. He managed to get off a couple of volleys before she bowled into him, but within seconds she had trapped him on the ground. Arthur hefted his sword and raced forward; this was his chance, since the waterbenders had to very careful not to hit Merlin.

As he ran towards his friend, he saw something that almost made his heart stop. The Lamia’s sharp fingers were sinking into Merlin’s chest, but he saw no blood. In a flash, Arthur understood: the Lamia did _not_ want to kill Merlin. She wanted to possess him and use his bending against them.

It was too late to do anything. The Lamia’s head and tentacles were already slipping beneath Merlin’s skin. All they could hope for now was that they could capture Merlin before he did any permanent damage to them . . . or himself.


	11. The Sword from the Stone

Percival dived out of the way as the Lamia swiped at him. Using the movement to gather a wave of water around him, he switched directions and threw it towards her. The waterbenders were not doing much except distract and harry the Lamia, but she was doing all she could to escape the firebender at her back. Merlin was sending fireball after fireball at her, leaping and twisting to escape her swiping tentacles. Percival had never seen a firebender at work before, and the sheer power behind Merlin’s attacks were enough to make the Wolfguard think perhaps they had this fight in the bag. Prince Arthur, Percival noted, was hanging back, obviously doubting his sword’s ability to do any damage. The waterbender knew that swords were usually effective against spirits: the problem would be getting in close enough to use it. As Percival and his fellow Wolfguards shifted the ice under Lamia’s tentacles, trying to trap her, he reflected that he should probably feel more insulted that a firebender was having better luck at hurting her than his fellow tribesmen were. Then again, Percival had never been a prideful man; help was honestly not something he usually needed, but he took it where he could get it. If Merlin could defeat this spirit, he was not going to complain.

Then, it all went downhill. The Lamia changed her approach from escaping Merlin to possessing him. Percival threw loops of water and ice around her form, trying to yank her back from where Merlin was trapped under her, but she was slithering into him faster than they could react.

Percival had never been possessed before, but he when he was very young a vengeful spirit had come into town and taken his neighbor and two of his children from them. Unlike with the Lamia, each host had lasted only a few minutes before burning out completely, tree roots and branches sprouting out of their skin and rooting them to the ground. Despite his young age, Percival still remembered this horrifying moment of clinging to his father’s legs as they hid, watching as Freya’s mother eventually managed to capture the spirit. The victims had been Freya’s father and two brothers.

As Freya jumped to her feet, crying out in alarm and horror as the Lamia slipped completely into Merlin’s soul, Percival wondered how she had ever gathered the courage to become a spiritbender herself, to put herself in the same danger that her lost family members had been in. Perhaps that event was what had motivated her to pursue her gift.

With a blast of fire, Merlin leaped to his feet, eyes shining a violent green, but almost immediately he fell again, clutching his head between his hands. Arthur, brandishing his sword, jumped forward, face tight and worried. As the defenders closed in around the firebender, Freya and her mother preparing to spiritbend again, Merlin’s body started to shiver and jerk uncontrollably. Percival froze. Was Merlin succumbing to the strain _already_?

Freya’s mother immediately threw the bands of water around him, but Merlin let out an inhuman roar and the water vaporized into steam. There was a blinding flash of white light, and the Lamia spirit went flying out of Merlin’s body, rocketing down the street and bowling over everyone in her path. All eyes followed her uncontrolled flight.

Percival was a bit distracted and he could have imagined it, but with the glimpse he caught of Merlin, slumped exhausted and panting on his knees, it looked like his eyes were now glowing, not green, but pure white.

All was chaos again. The Lamia seemed just as confused as everyone else about what had happened with Merlin, not even attacking as the waterbenders attempted to take her down again. She swerved every which way, desperate to escape. The Fire Prince, who up to that time had been mostly in the background, now raced forward and with an almighty swing of the sword he carried, lopped off one of the Lamia’s tentacles. She screeched, whipping out and knocking the prince to the ground. But she was injured now; steel would conquer where ice could not, it seemed. Percival cursed himself for not grabbing his sword or at least his boomerang.

Arthur scrambled to his feet again, expression dark and determined. The Lamia, sensing he was now her greatest threat, turned to face him, spirit tentacles threading through the air wildly. Percival jumped forward to step behind the prince, reaching out a hand to help steady him.

Arthur did not wait for anyone’s assistance: he feinted to the left; the Lamia followed it, then he stabbed at her body instead. The sword did not pierce her, but it did knock one of her green scales loose, creating an opening. She sensed it and tried to whack Arthur aside again, but Percival raised a wall of ice that took the brunt of her blow. Arthur gave him a split-second nod of gratitude.

“You pathetic humans!” she screamed, bearing down on them, tentacles waving like miniature snakes. “You will never defeat my mistress! _You cannot_! You will fall, and your world will be given over to my kind as it was in the beginning!”

Arthur had had enough, it appeared. He stabbed the Lamia deeply, up to the hilt, where the scale had been dislodged, and it was over. She struggled and roared, green blood dripping, snake-like body writhing, but after a few moments she stopped and grew still. Her body shrank and changed, and a few minutes later there was no snake, but a young woman in a tattered purple dress, green blood leaking out of a hole in her chest.

Percival had figured this was going to happen---every spirit had two forms---but Arthur looked disturbed by the change and turned away. In the chaos of the fight, there had been no time to see what damage there was to people and buildings. Arthur’s eyes were darting from Elyan to where Merlin had finally regained his feet, supported by Gwen. There were a couple of guards injured on the ice, being tended by healers who had braved the Lamia’s presence. More than one ice building had collapsed when the Lamia had been violently displaced from Merlin. There was a few young children huddled in the darkness under a cracked wall. Still filled with energy from the fight, Percival raced over to help them.

“It’s alright,” he said softly. “The spirit is gone now . . . you’re safe.” The children shrunk back for a moment as he squatted down and held his hands out, but the older boy eventually allowed himself to be coaxed out, followed by the three others.

Cleaning up after a battle was never easy. Olaf, who had been hanging back to coordinate the forces and reroute his people, showed up a few minutes later, his face carefully blank as he observed all the destruction, observed as a few bodies were packaged up in blankets to be carried away. Even as he gave orders and directed the efforts, Olaf watched everything. Listened to the tears and yelling all around.

Percival tried to pretend he was not watching his chief and his hidden grief. He knew that if there was a war with Morgana, there would be a much more bloodshed and terror, and that much more pain for Olaf, but looking around, he knew that fighting against something evil was worth it anyway, even if death did come. It was like Prince Arthur had said the day before, that if they died in this war, at least they would die doing what they knew was right. As Percival looked at the Lamia’s cooling body, he hoped that he would have the courage to do what was right.

He found himself at Olaf’s side a little later. Olaf was not a bender, so he mostly supervised the removal of ice blocks from the roadway, and helped to cast rubble into carts. Percival wondered what to say to his chief.

“What is to be done about this attack, my lord?” he asked softly, hands and arms lifting in the familiar bending forms as he raised one side of an ice wall.

“What do you think we’re doing, Percival?” Olaf snapped. “We’ll clean it up and bounce back. It’s the Water Tribe way.”

Percival did not speak for a moment, considering. “No, I mean, what is to be done about Queen Mab ordering an attack on us and one of your guests? Surely she knew this kind of devastation would happen.”

Olaf, in his own turn, was silent for some minutes, his shoulders slumped in exhaustion and his head bowed. “Surely she did, my boy. Surely she did.”

After helping move the last of the bodies onto a cart, Percival spotted Freya sitting on the side with Merlin and Gwen, her hand on the firebender’s shoulder. Percival hesitated only a second before going to join them. “---should have known something was wrong with Lancelot,” Freya was saying, face pinched with worry and guilt. “I didn’t even think. We don’t have many problems with spirits, but I _know_ what possession looks like---”

Merlin shook his head fiercely. “The Lamia was well-hidden. Even I didn’t really suspect, and I know Lancelot well.” His eyes were blue again as he squinted up at Percival.

“How are you?” the Wolfguard asked.

“Well enough,” Merlin replied. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more help.” Arthur chose that moment to join them from where he had been moving rubble, Elyan at his heels. “I was so stupid to let her get a grip on me like that.”

Arthur did not even make a joke about this comment. Freya asked, “What happened back there? Why did she leave you?”

Merlin’s brow furrowed. “I . . . don’t know what happened. I felt her possessing me, and then . . .” He struggled for words for a moment. “I don’t know how to describe it,” he confessed, smiling apologetically at Freya. “She just got knocked out of me again.”

The rest of them raised eyebrows at this description, and he shrugged helplessly. Percival thought about the brief glimpse of white eyes (had he imagined it?), and wondered what it could all mean.

“Well, this is the final proof,” Arthur said seriously. Totally lost, Merlin stared at him, nonplussed.

“Final proof of what?”

“Elena said the Lamia can only possess men. Since she couldn’t possess you, that _clearly_ means you really _are_ a girl.”

Elyan let out a snort of laughter as Merlin rolled his eyes. “You are hilariously clever, Arthur,” the firebender snipped back. Gwen shook her head fondly, but Percival noticed she did not meet Arthur’s eyes. When the group had first come to Camelot, Percival had noticed an unmistakable frostiness between Arthur and the two blacksmiths, perhaps brought on by his ties to the Fire Nation.

Elyan seemed to have warmed up to Arthur a little bit, as he asked the prince: “Where did you get that sword, Arthur?” He was looking curiously at the blade lying on the ground next to Freya, the same one Arthur had used to kill the Lamia. It was the first time Percival had gotten a close look at the sword himself, and his eyes widened as he recognized it. He shot Freya a look; her expression was a little smug as Elyan asked to see the sword. Arthur, after a nod from Freya, took the sword and handed it---rather reluctantly, Percival thought---to Elyan.

Elyan gasped when his hand touched the metal. As a metalbender and a blacksmith, he undoubtedly had sensory skills that others did not have when it came to swords, and Percival could only imagine what he was sensing from the blade as he carefully wiped the blood Arthur had missed onto his tunic. “ _No way_ ,” he breathed. “This is never what I think it is!”

Arthur, Gwen, and Merlin looked confused, but Percival and Freya simply exchanged knowing looks. It was how everyone felt when they were first told of this sword’s history.

“What do you think it is?” Freya asked archly.

Elyan had found the inscription on the side. “It is!” he crowed. “It’s the Sword from the Stone!”

“Wait, _the_ Sword from the Stone?” Merlin asked. “No, no way!”

“Look at the inscription!” Gwen jumped to her feet to see, her eyes wide.

Arthur frowned. “The Sword from---what? What is that?”

Merlin gave him a disbelieving look. “Seriously? Even _I’ve_ heard of the Sword from the Stone!” Arthur glared, then turned to Freya for an explanation.

“It was my great-grandfather’s,” she said, as if that would explain everything.

“ _Take me up, Cast me away_.” Elyan read the inscription almost reverently. “I don’t believe it. I have dreamed about this sword. I cannot believe I am actually holding it in my hands!”

“He was supposedly obsessed with immortality,” Merlin commented from his spot on the ground. “That inscription is meant to be a macabre statement on how fleeting mortal life is.”

“Dad said he didn’t think people had a chance to fulfill their destinies,” Freya said. “Because life is so short.”

Percival gave a little chuckle as Arthur came to the end of his patience. “ _Who_ are you talking about? What is this sword? Why is it so important?”

“My great-grandfather was Cornelius Sigan,” Freya said calmly. “The last Water Tribe Avatar. He was also the first Avatar to master metalbending. This was a sword he forged later in life, made from a stone that fell from the stars.”

“Your grandfather was an _Avatar_?” Arthur sounded dumbstruck.

“Why so surprised?” Percival asked.

Arthur shrugged, a little uncomfortable. “I suppose it never occurred to me that Avatars had children,” he admitted.

Merlin hastily turned his laugh into a cough. Freya gave him a shy smile and continued. “He named the sword ‘Excalibur.’ It’s an old word in an old language that no one really speaks anymore; funny, that, considering Sigan was certain that his whole life would come to nothing. I will say, though, he was a man who got things done: perhaps that’s why he gave it that name.”

“What does the name mean?” Elyan asked eagerly.

Freya smiled. “‘Unquenchable.’”

* * *

It was past sundown when Olaf called the council again. It had been a long, hard afternoon of cleaning and patching. All the icy debris had been bent off the ground and into the canals crossing the city. Percival counted their city lucky that the Lamia had stayed on the main road, for the most part; there were not been many residences to demolish in that area. As it was, new walls and buildings would have to be erected on the side of the street, but on that count they had gotten off easy.

Seven people had died, though, and not all of them guards. Percival supposed he should feel grateful there had not been more losses.

Prince Arthur and his crew stuck close throughout the cleanup. Arthur, Leon, Elyan, and Gwen, all used to hard labor, put themselves to work removing any debris the waterbenders could not with their bending. When he helped drag the last body out as the sun set, Percival spotted Merlin in the infirmary with Alice and the other healers, stitching up minor wounds and telling jokes. He did not know what had happened with the princess and the two airbenders, but they were both present at the council that night. Lancelot was silent and his face drawn, Percival noticed as he took his customary place behind Olaf; he did not seem able to look anyone in the eye. His friend Elena was chattering softly at him as everyone settled into their seats. Arthur sat down by Mithian and they immediately started talking softly with each other; their shoulders were slumped, though, as if in defeat. The waterbender could not blame them; he was not sure what could possibly convince Olaf to join their cause after everything that had happened that day.

When all were assembled at last, Olaf stood. Instantly, everyone was silent, waiting for the inevitable blow to fall. A sudden thought came to Percival: he knew how he wanted this council to end up, unlikely as that outcome was looking, so how would he be able to stand by and accept his chief’s decision even if it turned out the opposite way?

Olaf rested his fists on the table like he could not stand on his own. “What happened today has changed things,” he began without preamble. “We have even more enemies to face than we knew. Joining your side against Morgana is looking riskier by the minute.” His voice was hard as he looked at Arthur and Mithian before him. Neither of them quailed.

“We are truly sorry by what happened today with the Lamia---” Mithian began, but Olaf cut her off.

“ _That_ was not your fault. If there was a spirit at the Portal _we_ should have known and dealt with it before it became a threat like that. I do not blame you. But the fact is that I’m not sure if I can risk joining you. I don’t want to ally myself with Morgana either, but survival alone is making that look like my only option.”

Arthur leaned forward and clasped his hands together. “Then you will not help us?” His expression was blank but his eyes were pained. At his side Merlin’s head had sunk low.

Olaf hesitated, and looked over to Vivian on his left hand. She met his gaze squarely. From his position behind them it was hard to see either of their expressions, but Percival could only imagine she had a rare look of contemplation and perhaps compassion.

“There . . . might be a way,” Olaf said slowly.

The tension in the room stilled suddenly. Percival felt like everyone in the room could hear his speeding heartbeat. Even the council members appeared startled by Olaf’s statement.

“You had said that the Air Nomads told you where to find the Avatar. That’s more than anyone, including Morgana, has ever gotten. The Avatar is a great and powerful figure in our nations’ histories and memories. Not only that, he commands a presence in the Spirit World as well. If he joins your cause, there might even be hope for you.”

The prince leaned forward even more, bringing his elbows to the table. “What are you proposing, Chief Olaf?”

“If the Avatar will ally himself with you, so will I,” Olaf said swiftly. “This war might be over before it is won, but if you can get _him_ on our side, I will risk that. Morgana fears the Avatar’s power. She fears his influence. We might just win if we have him. I will not make any promises, but if you will head out to wherever the Avatar is and recruit him, I will begin to slowly and silently gather my forces. I will prepare for war. And as soon as you have sent me word that he has joined us, I will come to your aid.”

“Until then, we had discussed sending a few waterbenders with you,” one of the council members said, looking at his chief of confirmation. “And a spiritbender. Since we will have to keep that a secret, Olaf can’t officially order anyone to go, but we’ll ask around for a few volunteers.”

Behind Olaf, Percival gave a little smile, his breathing quickening. _And you will get them,_ he thought. _I will be one of them_. He prayed to every spirit and god he could think of that Olaf would let him go.

Arthur seemed almost to glow. “ _Thank you_ , Olaf,” he said sincerely, and Mithian was right behind him with gratitude. The others in their group looked up with hope in their eyes. “We will not fail you,” the prince vowed.

“I hope not,” Olaf said, “because if you do, it will not just be your ruin that comes.”

* * *

 

The guestroom, usually done up with all finery that the Fire Nation could buy, was in shambles when Morgana entered, flanked by Nimueh and Agravaine. The Firelord eyed the torn tapestries (centuries old), the mangled bedding (silk from the Earth Kingdom), the smashed lamps and strewn papers, and her jaw clenched. While Nimueh and Agravaine stood warily behind her, she searched for the culprit.

“Your Majesty? Queen Mab?”

There was a sound from behind the bed, almost like a growl.

“Why are you hiding, milady? What happened?” Morgana had been called to the Spirit Queen’s guest chambers after a couple guards became frightened at the noises from within. She could only feel grateful that the damage had not extended to the corridor or palace beyond, because _this_ was quite enough repairs to be getting on with.

Queen Mab slowly unfolded herself from behind the bed, coming to her full height. Morgana struggled to keep her face calm and unmoved. Every spirit, she knew, had two faces: a manifestation of calmness and peace, and a manifestation of anger. The face of Queen Mab she had encountered before was a short, almost human woman with tangled blond hair and a creepy smile. That was her face when she was calm and in control.

This was not a calm Mab. This was a dark Mab. She had grown by several feet, and now towered over Morgana as she approached; Agravaine took an involuntary step back as she came closer. Her eyes, normally brown, were now completely black, absorbing the light from the flames Morgana and Nimueh carried in their hands. Her teeth were fierce, hooked and sharp, and instead of a dress made of leaves, her clothes now seemed to be made of blood-red petals and let off a scent like rotting vegetation.

She looked every inch a furious queen.

Mab came to a stop a few feet from the other three. Morgana could see, out of the corner of her eye, Nimueh’s hand ready and waiting to throw lightning at the slightest provocation. Morgana herself could feel fire building in her core, begging to come out and incinerate something, to consume, to protect.

“What happened?” Morgana asked again, looking boldly into Mab’s swirling eyes.

Mab bore her teeth in a fierce scowl. “I miscalculated. The Lamia was not strong enough to defeat the prince.”

Disappointment flared through Morgana: The plan to attack the prince through the Spirit Portal had been a recent and rather hasty one, but Mab had been eager to show off the skills of her subjects. _“The Lamia is the most deadly of the spirits,”_ she had whispered. _“Prince Arthur will be putty in her claws.”_

Apparently not.

“Pity. Is she dead?”

“Yes.” Mab turned away, and she seemed to shrink a little in her grief at losing a lieutenant. Morgana could relate to that, even though it seemed _her_ followers were being lost through betrayal instead of death. She was almost grateful, because Merlin’s about-face had taught her that truly, no one could be trusted---just as she had always suspected.

Morgana shook those thoughts away and focused on Mab. “Milady, her failure is of no matter,” she crooned, laying a hand on the spirit queen’s shoulder. “Our plan is still set. With our forces combined, there is no hope for Arthur and his band of rabble and traitors to defeat us. Together, we are strong.”

Mab said nothing, and Morgana cast around for what might cheer her a little.

“I spoke with one of your subjects just now, while I was meditating,” she revealed slowly.

Mab turned back to her slowly; she was almost to her normal height again as she calmed. “The Puppetmaster?”

“Indeed. He has finally seen where the Avatar has been hiding from us all this time.”

This caught Mab’s attention, her eyes lighting up. “At last!”

The Firelord smiled; she knew this would distract Mab. Finding the Avatar had been as obsessive a thought for the spirit queen as it had been for Morgana---one of the many things that had united them.

“I want to go with you when you capture him,” Mab declared, smoothing down her leafy-green dress. The rotting smell had passed, as had her anger. “I will bring the boy back to the Fire Nation myself.”

“And then we will both take him to Cendred,” Morgana replied, her smirk growing with every moment.

Morgana could almost feel Nimueh and Agravaine exchanging uneasy looks behind her back, but that was also no matter.

She was the Firelord, and it was time she took her rightful place in the world, casting aside anyone who tried to get in her way.


	12. The Dancing Dragon

The airship had to be abandoned; there was no way to sneak away from the North Pole in it. Merlin understood that, but he still watched it go ruefully; he had been through a lot on that airship---stealing it to escape Ba Sing Se, traveling through places he had only seen on maps, chats with Gwen and arguments with Arthur---he sighed at leaving all that behind. Olaf instead gave them a small ship to take them across the waters. With the Fire Nation still stationed beyond the Water Tribe borders, it was the only way for them to escape secretly. Percival and the other waterbenders would direct the ship towards their next destination. Merlin was honestly surprised that the Wolfguard had managed to get permission from Olaf to go, but he seemed like a good sort, so Merlin was not going to complain.

Arthur and Mithian had decided that there was no time to waste. This of course, meant they would be getting no sleep--- _again_ \---as they would leave in the early, early, _early_ hours of the morning.

Merlin only refrained from complaining because he knew it was actually a smart decision (Alright, maybe he complained a little bit). His only consolation was when he spotted Freya coming aboard with a bag slung over her shoulder. He stared for a moment, then jogged over to talk with her.

“Are you coming with us?” he inquired, coming to a jolting stop and almost knocking her over. She gave him one of her quiet, shy smiles and nodded.

“Olaf wanted a couple spiritbenders to come along, so my brother and I volunteered for the job.” She blushed a bit at his wide smile. “I’m a bit nervous---I’ve never been so far away from the North Pole before.”

“It’s still close to the north, but it won’t be near as cold as here,” Merlin told her. He shuddered in relief. “I have enjoyed many things about this place, but the cold is not one of them.” He noticed the sheathed sword hanging on her back and recognized it as Excalibur. “Bringing that along?” he asked. Freya shrugged.

“It helped against the Lamia, didn’t it? I think the Prince is going to need a bit more protection than that little knife. Plus, I’ve had this crazy idea these past couple years of passing this sword onto the Avatar. I mean, it technically belongs to him, since he made it, right?”

Merlin had very little idea how the Avatar cycle worked, so he did not know if she was right, but he supposed since her great-grandfather had been an Avatar, she probably knew. “Right, of course.” His mind wandered off for a moment towards the wolf attack and what had happened there, and how exactly he had managed to reject the Lamia---but he pulled his thoughts back away from all that. _Stop considering impossible things_ , he told himself firmly, hoping Freya had not noticed his preoccupation.

A man with stringy dark hair came up behind her. “Who’s this, Freya?” he asked, eyeing Merlin with dislike. “The firebender?”

She gave him a disapproving look. “This is _Merlin_. He’s a friend. Merlin, this is my brother, Cedric. He’s a spiritbender like I am.” Merlin tried to smile cordially, for her sake, but he could already tell he and Cedric were not going to get along.

Merlin led Freya and Cedric towards where they could stow their belongings, passing Leon on the way. The Dai Li agent was looking curiously at something made of black cloth he had pulled from a chest. “What’s that?” Merlin asked, pausing.

“Uh . . .” Leon replied, but was saved by Percival coming up behind him, carrying boxes of smoked fish. Merlin wrinkled his nose at the smell.

“Stealth suits!” Percival told the three of them. “If we ever need to sneak around anywhere, we can wear those. Should be masks in that chest, too.”

He moved on and Leon shrugged. “There’s your answer. These could be quite useful.” Merlin tried not to think about what situations they might need the suits for, and they left Leon pondering over the contents of the chest.

Preparation took a couple of hours, as all the necessary supplies for the voyage were stowed aboard and the five waterbenders accompanying them bid goodbye to their families. Merlin hoped they were not final farewells, but it was hard to know in a venture like this. Merlin watched from the side of the ship as families gathered on the dock. Freya and Cedric had only their mother to hug goodbye, and the two women wept freely; Percival stayed aboard like he did not have anyone to say goodbye to.

Olaf and Vivian came aboard for the final check of the ship, and Merlin hurried over to join the group as they traversed the deck, looking at supplies and checking knots. Gwen gave him a nervous grin as Olaf talked. “Your journey will not be as quick as on an airship, even with my waterbenders pushing you along. It could take three or four days to reach the Earth Kingdom.”

Mithian cocked her head. “We have enough supplies to last until we reach the Temple. Why stop in the Earth Kingdom? We should move a quickly as possible.”

“There is a man you can find in one of the villages of the northern Earth Kingdom that could prove invaluable against the Firelord, and more particularly against her ally, Morgause,” Olaf replied. “He’s one of Percival’s many cousins, so he’ll give you more information.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Unless he’s a bloodbender I’m not sure what use he’ll be against Morgause.”

“He’s Morgause’s sister,” Vivian snapped. “So perhaps a little more useful than you might think.”

Lancelot leaned in a little at this. “A Southern Tribesman? I think I know the man you speak of. He’s come to our Temple a few times.”

Vivian sneered. “Yes, he always did like to visit . . . strange places.” Elena frowned and opened her mouth, but Olaf raised his hand to forestall further argument.

“I would normally send off a voyage like this by saying ‘Spirits guide you,’” the chief said,  “But viewing recent events that seems inauspicious. So I will only say, trust in each other, and may you all be successful.”

* * *

The plan was simple in theory; Merlin was not a waterbender, so he had no idea if it would be easy to actually carry out, but they knew in order to escape the Water Tribe unnoticed by the Fire Nation they would have to disguise the ship.

“Back in the days when the two Water Tribes fought all the time, there was a technique used to sneak up on opposing ships and cities,” Percival explained. “I can’t promise it’ll be perfect---I’ve never done it myself---but hopefully the soldiers won’t be looking too closely at an iceberg.”

Everything was set, packed away, and ready, the ropes and ties tossed back into the ship or onto the dock, tribesmen watching silently as the boat slipped away. Conditions were favorable for a quick escape: the moon, half-hidden behind clouds, was only a small sliver like a thin smile in the sky. Freya, standing at Merlin’s side as they set out towards the bay’s mouth, grimaced up at it. “This trick would be easier to maintain if the moon were full, but we can’t have everything, I suppose.”

Percival called a halt to the two waterbenders who had been pushing them from the dock. The ship drifted forward slowly as four of the five waterbenders arranged themselves on the port side of the ship. Merlin moved to stand next to Arthur to get out of their way, but he watched keenly; he had always been interested in other benders’ techniques.

The waterbenders waved their arms together, in three long, fluid movements, and the sea answered their call. Freya’s face was a study in concentration as a wave crept up, arching over the boat but not crashing down. The benders eased this mass of water completely up and over until it completely covered and hid the ship, then, with a crack and splintering noise, the water hardened and turned into ice. There was an almost inaudible sigh of relief, but the benders did not lower their arms.

Arthur strode forward to Percival, his arms folded and face set. Merlin wondered if, even after years of living in the Earth Kingdom, the prince still felt uneasy around bending. “Will it hold?” he probed the Wolfguard curtly. Percival gave him a respectful nod.

“We can’t let the full weight of the ice rest on the ship, otherwise it’ll capsize, but the Fire Nation will think we’re just a normal iceberg, floating out of the bay.” He gave a nod to the lone waterbender at the stern, and the man slowly started to push the ship forward again.

Merlin joined them. “We’re moving so slowly,” he muttered.

Arthur shrugged. “We’ll be out of the airships’ line of sight by morning, and then we can speed up. This is how it must be.”

“When do you think they’ll notice we’re gone from the North Pole?” Merlin asked Percival.

“I believe they’ll have to call off their guard and head back to the Fire Nation or the Earth Kingdom before they realize we’re gone,” the waterbender replied. “Unless they manage to sneak in, which I suppose I shouldn’t put past them.”

Merlin grimaced. It was true; all was fair in war.

* * *

Years of living on a farm and then being a soldier made it so that Merlin simply could not sleep in. More’s the pity, considering the time he had retired the night before. Soon after the sun had risen, he rose too and came above deck. Arthur had been right; the Water Tribe was behind them with no airships in sight, and they were surrounded by the open sea. No one was pushing the boat along except the wind now, all the tribesmen having collapsed in their blankets as soon as Percival gave the all-clear. It had been a long and tiring night for the waterbenders.

Percival himself was above. He seemed to be doing some sort of exercise routine, but it was like nothing Merlin had ever seen before: the waterbender was moving slowly and carefully in a pattern, arms straight but not locked, legs strong and sure. His movements were controlled but fluid. It took Merlin several moments of observing this to realize Percival was practicing bending forms. They looked nothing like the firebending and earthbending forms Merlin had been taught, so he had not immediately recognized them for what they were.

“Why are you staring?” Percival asked without looking at him, and Merlin blushed a little at being caught. He stepped forward smartly.

“Will you teach me?”

The waterbender paused in the act of wheeling his arms around. “Teach you what?”

“Waterbending forms.”

A short laugh. “You’re not a waterbender.”

“Well spotted! I like learning new things.”

Percival’s next look was measuring, but he shrugged. “As you wish.”

It was harder than it looked, especially for someone like Merlin. Growing up in the Earth Kingdom, he’d been taught firm, wide stances and how to be unyielding. Earthbending, the element of strength, was about overwhelming an opponent, making them withdraw. As a firebender under Nimueh’s and Gaius’ tutelage, he had learned the importance of power and offense. Firebending was all about control, over the fire and over others. He lost count of the times Percival told him to stop holding himself so stiff and relax into the forms.

Waterbending was different. Instead of submission, which seemed to be the goal of earthbending and firebending, Merlin felt like he was in tune with his movements, working with the water and flowing with it instead of fearing it would crush him or overwhelm him, like with earth and fire. It was almost like he had become water himself, a feeling he had experienced only a few times while firebending.

He wondered at this feeling. He had never earthbended before, _of course_ , or waterbended, but sometimes he felt like he was on the verge of something, like he could if he just took one step more . . .

The thought was both scary and exciting at the same time.

When they had gone through the whole routine, Merlin just stood there for a moment, soaking in that feeling of connection. It made the ocean around him feel that much vaster, but more beautiful, like a friend.

“It’s your turn, now,” Percival said, snapping Merlin out of the trance-like state.

“My turn for what?”

“To teach me firebending forms,” Percival replied, folding his arms. Merlin blinked. He had not been expecting that.

“Oh, er, well, there’s something I learned from Gaius that I could teach you. He learned it from---well, that doesn’t matter. It’s a firebending form called the Dancing Dragon.”

Percival raised an eyebrow, almost smiling. “The Dancing Dragon?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Merlin replied sternly, not willing to be laughed at. “Just follow my movements.”

* * *

It had been a long night, and Mithian had slept fitfully. Her mind was full of thoughts about home, Olaf, and the Avatar. There was just so much to worry about, and she was relieved when the sun rose and she could rise without causing anyone concern. Lancelot the airbender arose at the same time.

“Sleep well, milady?” he asked respectfully as they approached the stairs together.

“Of course,” she lied, then changed the subject. “I’m glad we’re on the move again.”

He gave her a kind smile. “Excited to be returning to the Earth Kingdom?”

 _More than you know_ , Mithian thought, but only nodded sedately. He let her go up the steps before him, and she ascended into the sun.

An odd sight greeted her. Percival and Merlin were prancing around on deck, faces fierce and focused. Mithian and Lancelot paused for a moment, unsure. Merlin turned to face them, legs bent and arms flung out to either side, hands straight and pointed, and saw them.

“Princess!” He tried to bow while still standing strangely and fell over. “Sorry, we were just, uh . . .”

Percival was unembarrassed. “Merlin was teaching me how to dance using firebending forms.” He somehow said this was a straight face.

Mithian had not known that was possible, but she quirked an amused eyebrow. Perhaps what she needed in her life right now was a bit of ridiculousness. “Well, that sounds relaxing. I love dancing! Perhaps you two would be willing to teach me?”

Merlin looked even more surprised at this. “If you like, milady.”

It was hard, but rather fun, to see the similarities and the differences between her element and Merlin’s. They all laughed at Percival’s loose stance. Lancelot joined in, though it was clear he disliked how aggressive and violent the moves were. Mithian on the other hand enjoyed that aspect, because it allowed her worries to drain out as she imagined with every move that she was punching one of her problems in the face.

The others, on coming out, were surprised and amused at the spectacle. Gwen clasped her hands to her heart.

“Look at this,” she crowed. “All four elements, working together! This is perfect!”

Mithian had not thought of it that way, and she allowed herself to believe, for one moment, that everything _was_ perfect.

It became a tradition: every morning, she, Merlin, and Lancelot would join Percival in his early exercise and practice, moving together in the four bending forms. Sometimes they were joined by Freya, Gwen, Leon, or even Arthur, but everyone else loved to sleep late, especially the waterbenders---they were working almost around the clock to move the ship closer to the Earth Kingdom. The four of them talked, too, sharing stories and jokes and insights.

“You’re a natural with earthbending, Merlin,” Mithian complimented him one morning, observing his form as they followed Gwen’s quick, strong movements. “I had forgotten you grew up in the Earth Kingdom.”

He nodded, concentrating on transitioning from one form to the next. “I had no firebending teacher until I actually went to the Fire Nation, so I learned how to bend from earthbenders.” He giggled. “It gave Gaius and Nimueh quite the headache when they had to break me from old habits.”

Mithian imagined a younger Merlin throwing fire around with earthbending moves while Gaius (who looked rather like her old earthbending masters in her head) watched in exasperation  and laughed herself. “How did the other villagers feel about a firebender living among them?”

His smiled faded away. “They were alright with it, I suppose. It was a small, remote village, so everyone was stuck in their ways. I never really fit in much there. My mother integrated herself pretty well; she even got remarried to one of the villagers and had another son, but I think the other villagers were relieved when I left, especially after---”

He did not finish that thought. Lancelot prompted him with an “After what?”

Merlin looked uncomfortable. “After Sozin’s Comet.”

Mithian’s stomach clenched. Gwen cast him a sympathetic look.

“Our village was so small, we had only recently heard that Uther was dead. Then the comet came. I had no idea what was happening---even my mother didn’t---but it was . . . a bad day. One of the problems with firebending is losing control. It’s so easy for the fire to become overwhelming. The comet augmented my power so much, I nearly burned the village to the ground.”

He gave a particularly vicious stomp with his feet and Mithian swore the boat rocked and the swells crashed more strongly around them. “Everyone was pretty anxious to get me to the Fire Nation after that.”

“You can lose control in waterbending too,” Percival interjected softly. “Water has a mind of its own.”

“Must make it scary to bend sometimes,” Lancelot said, looking at Merlin with a curious expression that Mithian did not understand. “Did you try to hide your bending?”

“Not hide it, but Mother always told me to keep close control over myself. I was only supposed to bend when it was necessary. It’s only these last two years that I’ve felt free to really be myself, and even then, I was _still_ hiding within Morgana’s court. Still, it was a bad time, after the comet, and coming to the Fire Nation was almost a relief.”

“I think Sozin’s Comet was bad for everyone,” Lancelot told him soothingly. He turned to Mithian and Gwen, giving the latter a cow-eyed smile. “How was it in Ba Sing Se?”

Mithian wished he hadn’t asked. The small group finished the earthbending forms and moved onto the Dancing Dragon before Mithian finally found her words.

“Bad,” she said, and thought about how inadequate that word was. “Terrible. In just a couple years of being Firelord, Morgana had snuck in a lot of spies and traitors into our court. Many of them are still there. I just---I feel like such an idiot---maybe my parents suspected something, but I had no idea. I think about it a lot. I feel so guilty about what happened.” She bent low and punched out to her sides with both her fists.

“It wasn’t your fault, Your Highness,” Gwen assured her soothingly. “Morgana was too well-prepared. What could any of us have done to stop her?”

“My maidservant, Hilda, was one of the spies,” Mithian replied shortly, twisting her body until it was facing the sea and imagined the older woman’s wrinkled face in her mind. “She was the one who let the soldiers into the palace. I should have at least stopped _her_ . I should have _known_.”

Gwen, frowning, stepped neatly out of the final firebending form and grasped Mithian by her shoulders. Mithian startled; she had not been expecting something like that from the kind earthbender.

“What Morgana did, or what Hilda did, are no fault of your own, Mithian,” Gwen said, softly but firmly. “They made their own decisions---and now you’ve made yours. We have all made mistakes, but I am _proud_ to call you my princess.”

“Hear, hear,” Merlin said from behind her, and Mithian gave them both a grateful smile.

“Thank you. It is good to know that I am so loved . . . by friends.” Mithian was not the weepy kind, but if she had been, she would have been blubbering a bit at that moment.

Lancelot bestowed another besotted look on Gwen, and she smiled back shyly. Arthur, of course, chose this exact moment to walk by and see them. Mithian, even spun up in her own thoughts and feelings at that moment, saw his pained expression and how he walked past just a little bit faster. In her own moment of happiness, her heart went out to the Fire Prince; it seemed everyone in their crew needed a lot of healing, and a lot of hope.

Mithian turned to Merlin and ask casually, “So Merlin, when are you and Leon going to retell the story of how you first came to Ba Sing Se? I nearly died for laughing the first time I heard it.”

* * *

They sailed along the coast of the Earth Kingdom for almost a full day before the village came into sight. Mithian, who had not traveled much in her life, watched contentedly as dark green forests and long beaches scrolled past. Her kingdom really was beautiful.

Merlin and Freya were standing just a little ways down from Mithian, leaning on the side. She could only barely hear what they were saying. Freya was murmuring, “It’s so green here. I’ve never seen _anything_ so green.”

“I was raised in a forest like this, you know,” Merlin told her. “Down in the southern province. Maybe one day I could take you there.”

She gave him a soft, sweet smile. “I’d like that. And I could show you my lake. It’s a shame you didn’t get to see it while you were there.”

He huffed out a laugh. Merlin had been vocal about how much he had disliked the North Pole, but he sounded enthusiastic as he agreed. Mithian stifled a smile and shot them a wistful look as they linked arms.

As the docks drew closer, Freya frowned, turning her head this way and that. “Percival,” she called. “I thought this was a fishing village? Where are all the boats?”

Merlin was squinting at the docks and what was visible of the village beyond. “And the people? They can’t be so scared of one Water Tribe vessel to run into hiding?” The docks, now that Mithian really looked at them, did look suspiciously deserted.

Percival joined them at the side. “I . . . You’re right. It seems quiet.”

The view did not seem quite so beautiful to Mithian now---more threatening. Anything could be hiding in those trees. “Remind me why we need to get this man again? I know he’s Morgause’s brother, but if we have to leave quickly, can we leave him behind without killing our plans?”

Elena was tugging at the collar of a blue tunic Freya had lent her. There was no way to hide that their ship was from the Water Tribe, but they could hide the Firepeople and Air Nomads among them. “He’s a good swordsman, I suppose, but no better than Arthur or Percival. _And_ he’s a notorious drunkard. What use is he against a bloodbender?”

“He’s got so much alcohol in his blood, Morgause can’t affect him,” Merlin joked, grinning. Arthur shot him a look of disbelief. “Kidding, kidding . . .”

Percival’s lips twitched, but he only said: “We shall see, I suppose. We’re going to need all the allies we can get in this war.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks all yuh for reading! I will be taking a little break in posting for the Christmas holidays, but expect to see more chapters of Firelord Rising come January! Any thoughts, comments, suggestions, compliments, complaints, etc. feel free to share with me :)


	13. Gwaine of the Southern Water Tribe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy mackerels, I'm sorry! [insert long, sordid story about why it is late here] Thank you for your patience, and here's Chapter Thirteen!
> 
> Since it’s been a few, let me remind you what’s been going on in this story: our core crew, led by Arthur and Mithian, have left the Northern Water Tribe to find Morgause’s brother in the Earth Kingdom, only to discover some mysterious happenings in his village. Merlin is struggling with the idea that he might be the Avatar, while Morgana and Queen Mab move ever closer to their goals . . .

“I have it on good authority,” said Merlin, “that he spends a lot of his time in here.”

Lancelot looked around with distaste. “Unfortunately, I’m not surprised.”

They were standing on the threshold of the village’s noisy, crowded tavern. Twelve hairy, dirty men wearing various shades of green, brown, and grey sat around the tables and the bar, drinking and laughing in the dingy, dimly-lit room while a harassed-looking barmaid did her best to keep them fed and watered.

Lancelot sighed. “Why did Arthur send _us_ here? No offense to him, but this seems much more his scene than ours.”

Merlin shrugged and started for the bar to order something. “I dunno, but that shopkeeper he talked to on the way from the docks said that we might also find him at his friend’s house on the outskirts of the village. Maybe Arthur just wants to irritate us by giving us this assignment.” Merlin could think of several reasons why Arthur might want to subtly irritate Lancelot, but he did not say that out loud as he took his place at the bar.

Merlin had never liked drinking much, and he imagined that Lancelot liked it even less, so he ordered the smallest amount of mead possible while wondering why he couldn’t have gone with Arthur, Percival, and Elena to the friend’s house, or just stayed on the ship with everyone else. He gave the barmaid a friendly smile as he handed over the coin he had painstakingly dug out of his pocket. She snatched the coin and gave it a suspicious look as if it might be fake. Merlin did not like being suspected of fraud, but in a country of metalbenders, forgery was known to happen.

“See anyone you recognize?” he murmured to Lancelot as he took a sip. Hmm, the mead wasn’t as terrible as he had feared.

The airbender nodded his head, struggling not to choke as he drank. “No--- _cough_ \---this stuff is awful, what is it?” Merlin thumped him on the arm.

“Shh! If we want the barmaid to talk, we need to ingratiate ourselves with her,” he hissed, and took another sip before leaning over the bar. “Good brew, miss! Locally made, I suppose?”

She looked even more wary than before at his friendliness. “My cousin raises the bees himself,” she muttered, then turned back to wiping glasses. Merlin shrugged and turned to observe the room. Several of the men were eyeing him and Lancelot in a way he did not like. He wondered if they were villagers: they didn’t look like farmers, but soldiers, with huge muscles, rough looks, and knives tucked into their belts. They were an odd sight in a small fishing village like this, and Merlin could not help but think about the time in his youth when bandits had skulked through the woods. These men had the same look.

“Funny,” he muttered. “The village is so quiet, but the bar is full. Before noon? Hmm.”

Lancelot nodded slowly, his eyes darting around. “You and Freya were right when you said the village was suspiciously empty. I hardly saw anyone other than that shopkeeper. Where do you suppose everyone is?”

Merlin _hmmm_ ed again. He was worried about saying too much while these rough-looking men might overhear, but even his own village near Omashu was more lively than this one was, despite being half the size.

The barmaid had moved closer, wiping the bar down, and he beckoned to her. “Miss, we came into town looking for a friend of ours: his name is, uh---” Merlin drew a blank, and turned to Lancelot for a reminder. The airbender mouthed the name at him. “Right! Gwaine. A Tribesman like myself?” Not really, but he had borrowed Cedric’s blue shirt so he had to act the part.

She gulped a little, her eyes darting to a bald man sitting a ways down the bar. He was shorter than Merlin but bigger, built more like Lancelot and Percival. His eyes were narrowed as he watched Merlin and the barmaid talking. “No, sir,” she replied, obviously struggling to keep her voice even. “I don’t know of anyone with that name.” She quickly went back to scrubbing.

Merlin sat back and locked eyes with the man at the bar. He did not like to think why the woman was so afraid of him. He gave Lancelot a significant look and the airbender, who had missed most of the exchange but nevertheless could tell something was up, frowned.

“Seems Gwaine’s gotten himself into some trouble with this lot,” Lancelot murmured, trying to be inconspicuous as he pretended to sip his drink. “Good man, but he likes impossible odds, you know?

Merlin could imagine. A man coming from the close-knit, traditional South, with a bloodbender for a sister and a liking for swordplay? No wonder he had turned out a bit of a rebel. Merlin could definitely understand that.

“I’ve, er, got to use the outhouse,” Lancelot muttered in embarrassment. “I’ll be back soon. You can finish my drink,” he added as he went out.

Merlin looked around nervously as his friend left, gulping a little bit at his drink. He wondered if any of these men would take advantage of Lancelot’s absence, as he obviously had more physical prowess than Merlin did.

After he had finished his own drink but before he had decided to take up Lancelot’s offer to touch his own, another man came into the tavern. Merlin only noticed his presence when all the other occupants went silent. It was a tall man with long, dark hair and a beard like Lancelot’s, but he was dressed much like the bandit-like men in the tavern and was, it seemed, already a little drunk. He swayed on his feet as he came forward, but his hand rested on a sword at his waist.

“Sarrum, what a pleasure to see you here,” he drawled, coming forward to the balding man at the bar. The man, Sarrum (Merlin supposed), was looking at the newcomer with something like hatred in his eyes, and a few of the other man had gotten to their feet. The drunk man continued, laying a friendly hand on Sarrum’s shoulder. “Not that I ever see you anywhere else. Unless you’re off terrorizing some helpless villager, you seem to be permanently attached to that chair.”

Sarrum had tackled him to the ground before Merlin could blink. The barmaid shrieked and disappeared under the bar as four other man came forward and grabbed the long-haired man, dragged him up and yanked him towards the door, Sarrum leading.

Merlin unfroze himself from his stool and followed the ruffians out as they towed the long-haired man through the front door. Merlin had hoped they would simply dump him and leave, but to his horror they began raining blows down on the other man.

“Stop, stop!” Merlin cried, pushing them back as much as he was able. It took all of his self-control not to fry the five men into something more crispy. “What’s he ever done to you?”

Sarrum sneered at him. “Keep your nose where it belongs, Tribesman! This is our business!”

He turned back to his prey only to have the fallen man kick him in the nose.

What followed was an all-out brawl. The victim was not quite as drunk as he had appeared, and held his own against three of the ruffians. Merlin struggled, however. He managed to land a lucky hit that knocked one man into the wall, but was so surprised that his other opponent hit him in the jaw. Spitting blood from his tongue, Merlin jerked backwards to avoid the next blow, swiping his hand to knock his assailant’s arm away.

A metal pail, sitting on the only stack of pallets left upright on the side of the tavern, following the wild movement of Merlin’s arm, flew off and knocked Merlin’s attacker in the head. He fell, out cold.

Merlin stared at the pail, lying innocently on the ground now, then whipped around to check behind him. He saw neither Elyan nor Gwen anywhere. His heart rate doubled.

The drunk man, now brushing his hands together as he observed the five men groaning on the ground around him, swept his long hair out of his eyes and gave Merlin a winning smile.

“Nice! A metalbender, eh? Don’t meet one of you every day!”

Merlin swallowed nervously. “I’m not! I’m mean, that wasn’t me!”

A raised eyebrow. “Then who was it?”

“I don’t know.” Panic was rising inside of him, and he fought for control over his emotions. It would not do to lose control now. “Maybe one of them did it? Or, my friend, he’s a metalbender, he might have done it.”

The other man looked skeptical, but he shrugged easily. “No matter. Perhaps I should introduce myself to my knight of shining pails.” He held out his hand, grinning in a way that had Merlin’s mouth curling upwards in a smile as well. “Name’s Gwaine.”

“Great dragons!” Merlin cried incredulously. “Just the man I was looking for!”

“Oh, does my reputation precede me?” Gwaine laughed cheerily. “I always knew it would.”

Lancelot chose this moment to return from the outhouse. He froze at the bodies strewn in front of the tavern. “What the---” he gasped. “Merlin?!”

Gwaine gave a cry. “Lancelot!”

“Gwaine?” Lancelot was soon smothered by Gwaine’s hug. “When did you get here? What happened? Why are you _always_ surrounded by chaos, Gwaine?”

Merlin and Gwaine rushed to explain, but at that moment the other men from the tavern came to see what all the delay was about.

“Ooops,” Gwaine said, still grinning. “We might want to run now.”

* * *

Elena was racing ahead. Not because she had to: Arthur suspected she simply enjoyed the wind on her face and how lightly she could spring across the ground. She capered through the long, thick grass at high speed, occasionally laughing to herself.

Arthur enjoyed the walk down the long lane to Gwaine’s friend’s house. After the barren whiteness of the Water Tribe and their sea voyage, trees and fields were a welcome change. It reminded him of the countryside in the Fire Nation; birds flitting through the branches, the occasional elephant rat scurrying up and down tree trunks. He sighed nostalgically as he remembered all the times he and Morgana had been taken out into the wilds to play, catching badgerfrogs in the streams and pretending they were dragons. They had passed through towns much like this one.

Elena paused at a fence to watch a herd of puma goats grazing in a field; Arthur was surprised to see them on such flat territory. “Aren’t those creatures carnivores?” she asked.

“Omnivores,” Arthur answered. “Puma goats can eat anything.” A hawk screeched overhead, and Arthur squinted up at it as they walked on. He wondered where the Fire Nation airships were, whether they had been forced to give up and move on . . . or whether they had simply called for reinforcements. He shuddered a bit: the Northern Air Nomads had escaped destruction by the skin of their teeth, but what if the Water Tribe was attacked and fell because they had harbored fugitives? Arthur did not think he could bear that.

 _Perhaps you should have made good on your earlier thoughts and left them behind,_ he chided himself. _They would have been safer. It’s you Morgana wants, after all: you should have given yourself up. Perhaps you should never have escaped the Fire Nation dungeons in the first place; fat lot of good it’s done you._

It was true, Arthur sighed to himself, turning his face away from Percival so the other man could not see his expression. His whole purpose the last few years had been to keep hidden and alive, but the last couple weeks had shown how fragile his life had really been: Valiant had betrayed him so quickly and easily; all the benders and rulers they had met had distrusted him for his past, and rightly; and now Gwen had turned her back on him.

Perhaps breaking off old ties would make everything easier when he moved on with his life after this rebellion was over. Falling back into his old role as the Fire Prince had been easy, but probably a mistake, because it had surely given his allies the impression that he was going to accept the role of Firelord, and that was simply impossible.

He could never take the throne.

Lost in his thoughts, Arthur almost plowed right into Elena, who was standing still in the middle of the lane.

“That,” she declared, “is one creepy-looking house.”

It was. The little farmhouse up ahead was still and silent. It had a dark slanting roof and shuttered windows that suggested emptiness. The shopkeeper Arthur had talked to had not said the name of Gwaine’s friend, but she had been emphatic that they go look at the house. Now that they had actually reached it, Arthur’s sense of uneasiness only increased. Why were there so few people in this village? Were they hiding?

He stopped walking to stand next to Elena with Percival at his side. Both of his companions were watching at the house warily. It looked like it was waiting for them.

Arthur squared his shoulders and strode forward. He had a mission and he was not going to be scared off.

“Hello?” he called, coming up to the green door and knocking firmly. “Hello, inside?”

No answer. Percival leaned over to peek through a window, but there was no one. Elena chewed her nails, looking nervous. Arthur, feeling a little frustrated that they had wasted time stopping in this village for a man they could not find, knocked again, harder.

A twig snapped behind them, and Arthur turned sharply, laying his hand on the hilt of his long knife (Really, he should have asked Freya if he could borrow Excalibur again).

Three women clad from head to toe in dark grey cloaks watched them from the treeline. Their hoods covered their heads and most of their faces. Arthur cleared his throat to hide his surprise.

“Erm, hello, do you live here?” he asked, trying to sound pleasant. Elena crept behind him, eyes narrowed.

“We do,” one of the women said from beneath her cowl---the one on the left, Arthur thought.

“Wonderful! We are trying to find a man named Gwaine; do you know him?”

“We do.” This time, it was the one in the middle that answered.

 _Creepy_ , Arthur thought, but he was not one to be cowed by creepy things. “Can you tell us where he is?”

“We can.”

“Why do you talk like that?” Elena burst out, her curiosity overcoming her fear. “Why are you wearing those creepy cloaks? Why are you being so obtuse?”

Arthur cringed a little bit.

As one, the three women reached up and removed their hoods. Although they still had curiously blank faces, Arthur could now see that they were older women with greying hair. He felt a little better now that he could see their eyes.

“I am Niede,” the one in the middle said.

“I am Aterloppe,” the one to their left added.

“I am Befelen,” the last one told them.

Together, they said, “We are the village elders in Disir.”

Arthur hesitated, then bowed. “Is that the name of this village? Disir? Forgive us. I’m Arthur, and these are my companions, Percival and Elena. We arrived here this morning seeking news of Gwaine.”

“Why?” one of them said; Arthur had already forgotten which one was Niede and Befelen and---well, the other one.

“Gwaine is a relative of mine,” Percival replied quietly. “We sought his help in a . . . personal matter.”

The elders exchanged glances, then called as one: “George!”

As if from nowhere, a young man with brown hair appeared from around the corner of the house. His face was impassive as he observed the scene.

“Fetch Gwaine from the village, George,” possibly-Niede told him, and he obediently moved off. She turned back to Arthur. “It was foolish for you to come here to the village at this time.”

Arthur bristled a little at her accusing tone. “Why? We came seeking a friend.”

“We noticed the village was  . . . curiously empty, my lady,” Percival cut in swiftly. “Where are all the people?”

“Hiding.”

“As you should be.”

Arthur’s gut clenched and his fingers twitched on the handle of his knife. “Hiding from what?” he asked.

“Evil men,” one of the Disir elders replied, her voice blank and smooth. “They have come into our village---”

“---Taken our money---”

“---Our crops---”

“---All that we have.”

“They will know you are here,” the one in the middle intoned. “You will not escape them.”

Arthur thought of the rest of their group on the ship, and saw Percival and Elena exchanging fearful looks in his peripheral vision. “We are capable of handling of ourselves,” he responded firmly, not willing to be scared by these three creepy women.

“Perhaps,” Niede---maybe Befelen---said mysteriously.

“We can help you drive them out!” Elena offered awkwardly. “We’re, uh, we’re pretty good at fighting? We can help!”

The trio observed her with blank eyes and she shrank back a little. “We require no help,” Aterloppe groaned. “We have all the help we need.”

“The white goddess will drive them forth,” one of her companions continued.

“‘The white goddess’?” Elena repeated, more confused by the second.

“The bandits have strayed too close to her lair.”

“She lives in an abandoned gold mine on the mountain.”

“They have been lured there by the promise of riches, but all they will reap is death at her hands.”

“Who is she?” Arthur asked, foreboding growing ever stronger in his stomach.

“An avenging angel,” was the dramatic reply.

“She will rain fire upon their heads if they dare come close to her!”

 _Rain fire?_ Arthur wondered. _A firebender?_

Before he could voice his confused thoughts, there was a commotion in the woods surrounding the house. Arthur, Elena, Percival, and the three Disir elders turned quickly to see who or what it was. With much rustling of bushes and scattering of leaves, Merlin and Lancelot came into view, closely followed by George and another man with dark hair. The four were out of breath, and although George still looked neat and put-together, the other three were disheveled and a little bruised, like they had gotten into a fight.

Merlin and Lancelot hailed their friends merrily, and George went to stand near his mistresses.

“They ran afoul of the bandits,” the servant drawled. “I led them through the woods to throw them off.”

“We were doing great without you!” the dark-haired man interrupted, dashing forward to kiss the hands of the three ladies; their blank and forbidding expressions did not change, but that didn’t seem to deter him. He gave a shout at the sight of Elena and Percival, and there was momentary scuffle of hugs. Arthur raised his eyebrows at Merlin.

“‘Ran afoul of the bandits,’ Merlin? What have you been doing? Please at least tell me that’s Gwaine?”

“Why does everyone seem to know my name?” Gwaine asked, pulling away from where Percival was ruffling his hair. “What have you been telling them, cousin? And who’s the blond?”

“Blond?” Arthur objected incredulously.

“What’s wrong with blonds, Gwaine?” Elena asked, folding her arms across her chest.

He did not miss a beat, but put an arm around her shoulders with a sultry smile. Arthur could see her blushing as he leaned in close. “Of course I didn’t mean _you_ , Elena; you are beautiful like the sunshine.”

Lancelot cleared his throat loudly, and Elena snapped out of it. “How charming you are, Gwaine!” Arthur felt sure his face would freeze into a sneer by the time their work with Gwaine was done. On his left, Merlin looked amused, but he interjected quickly, “We’re staying and knocking these upstart bandits into the next country, right?” When Arthur nodded emphatically, he continued. “Then we should get back to the ship. We have a lot of work to do.”

* * *

Once Gwaine discovered that they wanted to help him in casting out the bandit troupe, he was ecstatic. “You mean I actually get to watch airbenders beat someone up?” he asked excitedly after they had taken their leave of the Disir elders and George. “Every time I go to an Air Temple, I try and get a fight started to see what happens, but all of you are just so _calm_.”

Lancelot and Elena were laughing. Gwaine was leading them through the fields in an attempt to escape any possibility of the bandits seeing them.

“You always did like traveling around the world, visiting other cultures and learning about bending,” Percival commented in a long-suffering sort of way. “As I recall, the only place you haven’t been to is the Fire Nation.”

Gwaine’s face darkened a little. “Yeah, I’ve been putting that one off a bit.”

“Because of Morgause?” Arthur asked bluntly. The Tribesman gave a little huff of a laugh, despite the sudden tension that had entered among them at the bloodbender’s name.

“Seriously, Percy, what have you been telling these people?”

“Only what’s necessary,” Percival responded. “I suppose we’ll discuss it all when we join everyone on the ship, but there’s a reason we came here looking for you now, Gwaine.”

Gwaine nodded, his dark, shrewd eyes flicking around in the fields surrounding them. Merlin hoped he hadn’t been too offended or scared by Arthur mentioning his sister’s name so suddenly. “Well, if you’re opposed to Morgause, I suppose I’ll listen: the enemy of my enemy is my friend, right? But I want to go to the Fire Nation someday. Perhaps I’d meet a firebender that’s actually been trained as a _firebender_ instead of as an earthbender!”

Merlin perked up at this.“Well, you’re in luck!” he said. “I was trained by two of the greatest firebending masters of this age.”

Gwaine took a moment to digest this. “An earthbender trained by firebenders?”

This was such a non sequitur question that they all just stared at Gwaine for a moment. “What?” Merlin asked. “No, I’m a firebender!”

“You’re a firebender?” Gwaine said, giving him a confused smile. “I thought you were a metalbender?”

“A metalbender?” Arthur asked. “Merlin?”

“Yeah! Merlin here knocked one of the bandits out with a metal pail---without touching it!”

Merlin flushed; he had forgotten about that. Elena stared. “What, Merlin? How’d you do that?”

“You metalbended?” Lancelot asked sharply, watching closely. Merlin gulped a little under the scrutiny.

“No! Of course not. I just, I just, you know---” He made a vague gesture with his arm, figuring that since _he_ had no idea what had happened, leaving everyone else just as confused would have to do. “It wasn’t metalbending, I already told you that!” Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Well, whatever it was, it saved my life,” Gwaine said in a final sort of way. “Thank you.”

Elena chuckled and changed the subject, and Gwaine eagerly joined in the conversation, with Arthur occasionally interjecting with a pointed jab at Gwaine. Merlin was personally relieved that the attention had turned away from him. He did not _really_ want to think about all the weird things that had been happening with his bending in the last week, but he wanted to discuss it with the group even less.

Lancelot’s hand took his arm, drawing him back from their companions a bit. “I think you should talk with Arthur,” the airbender said softly.

Merlin stared. “About what?”

Lancelot gave him a significant look. “About what happened on the road to the Spirit Portal.”

“The Lamia? Or, do you mean Freya?”

The airbender shot him an amused look. “What would you need to tell him about Freya?”

“Nothing!” Merlin said quickly. “There’s nothing that I need to tell Arthur about Freya!”

“Right, I didn’t mean her either. I meant about the wolf attack. About the airbending. And since when was metalbending on your list of skills?”

A chill passed through Merlin’s body, despite the warmth of the day. “What do you mean?” he asked sharply. “That wasn’t airbending. That’s impossible.”

“Merlin, I am an _airbender_ ,” Lancelot pointed out, keeping his voice down as their companions continued to converse ahead of them. “I _know_ airbending when I see it. And the more I think about what happened, the more I am convinced that you airbended.”

Merlin swallowed against rising panic. He had had these thoughts himself, in the quiet watches of the night, but to hear them spoken aloud was like all his worst fears come true. “Lance, that’s _impossible_. I have never airbended before! I’m a firebender!”

“Be that as it may,” Lancelot began, but Merlin cut him off.

“You should know better than anyone that I can’t be an airbender, because that would make me---”

He stopped and looked away at the swaying fields around them. “Yes?” Lancelot prompted.

Merlin struggled for a moment. “It’s not possible,” he repeated yet again. “The Avatar is an Air Nomad.”

Lancelot frowned. “Well. Maybe.”

Merlin stopped walking and turned to his companion, face scrunched. “What do you mean by that?” he demanded, heart beating very fast.

Lancelot looked uncomfortable but resolute, as if he was finally putting into words thoughts he had been hiding for a long time. “Just that I’ve never met the Avatar before, and I’ve never known anyone, even from the Western Air Temple, that knew him. Just that no one even knows his name. Just that it’s not like an Avatar to hide away, especially when there’s a threat like Morgana out there. He’s got to be at least twenty-one or twenty-two years of age by now; what’s his excuse?”

“Fear,” Merlin said promptly. “Morgana has been _obsessed_ with finding the Avatar. She wants him on her side. If he opposed her, she would probably destroy the Air Nomads; it’s not like you have a standing military or anything. He needs allies, just like we do! Or, maybe he can’t control his powers! Four elements has got to be a lot of work; I could understand that. Maybe he can’t find anyone to teach him---”

“ _Mer_ lin!”

The firebender stopped talking instantly and turned. He had almost forgotten about Arthur and the others. The Fire Prince was standing with hands on hips, Elena and Percival at his sides, Gwaine watching bemused from ahead. “ _What_ are you two talking about? We were heading back to the ship, remember?”

Merlin flushed a little. “Of course, sire. Coming.”

He turned away from Lancelot’s speculative gaze and walked over to the other four. Their shortcut through woods and fields had taken them almost to the docks at that point, and Merlin focused on the glittering beach, trying to put Lancelot’s words out of his mind and calm his racing heart. He failed, of course.

“Ah, a good old-fashioned Water Tribe vessel!” Gwaine crowed as they walked down the dock towards it. “Blue sails and high prow and all!” He patted the side of the ship where he could reach it. “I have missed you.”

“You miss being on ship?” Merlin asked, his nose scrunching.

“Some of us have gotten _really_ seasick,” Elena observed gaily. “Leon’s been looking green all week; I’m surprised at Mithian’s constitution.”

“Mithian?” Gwaine asked curiously. Merlin could understand why: it wasn’t a common name, even in the Earth Kingdom. Before he could say anything, Elena continued.

“Yes, Princess Mithian. Didn’t Merlin and Lancelot tell you she was with us?”

Merlin smirked a little at Gwaine’s dumbfounded expression. The Tribesman had to turn and look towards Percival for confirmation, but Percival had reached the deck first and frozen. “What---” he gasped.

Foreboding filled Merlin at his tone, and he raced up the gangplank to see what had happened. The deck of the ship was a mess, with supplies and boxes scattered everywhere. There did not seem to be much damage to the ship itself, but it was obvious there had been some kind of fight. The deck was deserted.

Arthur stared around with narrowed eyes. “What happened here?” he asked sharply, despite that no one present could have known. “Where is everyone?”

“Arthur, is that you?” Leon’s voice issued from below deck.

“Leon?”

A sad-looking party consisting of Mithian, Leon, and one of the waterbenders came up the stairs from below, and Merlin gasped when he saw them. Leon’s arm was in a sling, and Mithian had a dark bruise on her cheek, like someone had slapped her.

Arthur’s breathing was coming faster. Merlin imagined he could feel air whooshing in and out of him, in and out. “What happened?” he demanded. “Where is everyone else?”

“Men came from the village,” Mithian reported solemnly. “Villagers, or bandits, we don’t know. They wanted some kind of tax for docking, but we didn’t have anything to give them, so they took---”

She stopped. Gwaine came up to stand next to Merlin, his face tight, eyebrows drawn together. “Who did they take?” he asked quietly. “How many?”

Mithian did not seem able to continue, so Leon finished for her. “Three. We tried to fight them off, but they took Gwen, Freya, and Cedric.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I should have the next chapter up next Wednesday!


	14. Servant With No Master

In the hours after sunset, while the waxing moon rose ever higher, the mood in the bandit camp changed a little bit. All day the bandits had been tense and uptight, waiting for an attack, but as the last rays of the sun vanished behind the hills an almost celebratory mood spread throughout the ruffians.

“You think they’ll come tonight?” Sarrum asked the bandit leader, a rough-faced man named Odin. “I would have thought they would come for their friends hours ago.”

“They’re new to these parts, Sarrum,” Odin replied easily. “I told you they would not come for many hours yet; they need a guide through these woods, or at least a map. Now, it’s night, and we’ll be ready for them.”

Sarrum did not look convinced, but he did not scold any of their men and women for their lax attitudes as they drank, laughed, and sang around their fires. It had been a good day: three more prisoners for the mine, and one of them an earthbender too! Waterbenders were not _as_ useful, but Sarrum knew from personal experience that Tribesmen were incredibly loyal to their kin. If he could exploit that brother-sister relationship, those two younglings could be just as useful as the earthbenders . . . with proper training. He smiled a little at the thought, and his eyes landed almost automatically on the figure of a young man sitting by one of the fires. He was not laughing or talking like the others were, but sat apart, his dark eyes drooping and hopeless.

Sarrum grinned. Yes, Tribesmen were _very_ useful, when they had been properly trained.

A runner, one from the first watch, came darting through the fires to Sarrum. “Sir, they’re coming!” he panted. “Five of them, up the mountain.”

The small number immediately set off warning bells in Sarrum’s head, but he only nodded. “Very well. Tell Odin. We’ll set an extra watch on the prisoners and prepare for their coming.”

Sarrum knew that seismic sense was imprecise, even if he was not a bender himself. They would have only minutes to set the trap, but minutes was all they would need.

“Up and at ‘em!” he roared, his booming voice echoing through the clearing. “We have company!”

There was a great scrambling for weapons and a last downing of drinks as the news sunk in. Chaos descended for a moment as everyone rushed around to their places. Sarrum ignored the hullabaloo, instead marching towards the young man who sat alone by the fire. The boy watched his approach with despair in his eyes.

“On your feet, boy,” Sarrum growled. “It’s showtime.”

* * *

 

It was early afternoon as they prepared to leave the ship. Arthur had been a flurry of furious motion from the moment that Gwen’s kidnapping had reached his ears; he had only paused for a moment when they went belowdecks and he saw Elyan lying motionless on his bunk, the healer at his side.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice breathless and loud. Elena clutched Lancelot’s hand even tighter, blinking back tears.

“He was hurt fighting alongside Gwen, trying to protect her,” Mithian revealed tonelessly.

“How is he?” Merlin questioned the healer, coming in close. He had been unusually quiet. Elena’s heart went out to him; she knew that he had been close with Gwen and Freya.

“He hasn’t woken up yet,” the healer responded, his voice barely audible. Arthur’s lips sealed.

“We need to get ready and go,” he snapped, and turned back to his bunk. Merlin’s face was creased and worried as he scouted under his bed for his Fire Nation armor. Arthur was surreptitiously watching Elyan from the other side of the room as he searched for his gear, face expressionless, and Elena knew he was thinking of Gwen. Merlin, meanwhile, knelt in the spot between his bed and Freya’s, and just looked at her neat blankets for a moment. Elena almost looked away at the intensity of his gaze, but was surprised to see him reach under her bed and pull out the Sword from the Stone, Excalibur. He paused only a moment before calling, “Arthur!”

The Prince turned around just in time to catch the sword sheath in his hand. He raised an eyebrow at Merlin.

“Thought you might need a better weapon than that knife,” the firebender explained, shrugging. Arthur nodded slowly and turned away again.

Gwaine had been watching from near the stairs, his expression contemplative. Elena did not know that much about the Tribesman, even though he had visited the Northern Air Temple a few times, but she hoped that he would be able to help them. “Can you get us to the bandit camp?” she asked him after she had done lacing up her boots.

“Do you doubt it?” he asked with a winning smile. She rolled her eyes. He eyed Arthur as the other man came closer, cinching the red and black gauntlets a little tighter. “Why did Percival call you ‘your highness’?” he asked abruptly.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Because . . . I used to be the prince of the Fire Nation.”

Gwaine’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Well, I suppose that explains it.”

The prince raised an eyebrow. “Explains what?”

“Why you’re such a prat,” Gwaine replied cheekily, then turned to bound up with stairs with a parting wink.

The two other waterbenders stayed on the ship to guard it and Elyan, but the rest of them, led by Gwaine, marched back out onto the docks. Before they left, Lancelot took Elena’s arm. “Are you sure . . . uh, that you don’t want to stay here and help them defend the ship?”

Elena stared at him. “Why would I be useful here? I’m much better in the open air.”

He rubbed his upper lip awkwardly. “Well, it’s just, it’ll be dangerous, and neither you or I have much combat experience.”

Finally seeing what he was getting at, she grinned at him. “Then why don’t _you_ stay behind?”

Lancelot said nothing, just looked at her earnestly.

She brought her arm down to clasp his hand. “Don’t worry, friend. We’ll stay side-by-side. You protect me, and I’ll protect you. You keep all your limbs attached, and I promise I’ll be fine.” He nodded, squeezing her hand, and Elena felt a burst of affection for him. Even though she had accepted long ago that Lancelot would never love her in _precisely_ the way she loved him, she was grateful their friendship had stayed strong throughout the years.

Gwaine set off at the strong pace back in the direction of the elders’ home. Arthur paused, frowning. “I thought the bandit camp was _that_ way?” he asked, pointing in the opposite direction, towards the mountains.

The Tribesman raised an eyebrow, turning back towards the prince. “And how would you know that?” he asked. “Don’t worry, princess, I know what I’m doing!” and turned his back again. Merlin shot Arthur an amused smile over his shoulder.

Elena could hear Arthur’s grinding teeth from where she stood. This was going to be a long walk.

* * *

 

“Something’s happening.”

“Sarrum’s yelling.”

“Sarrum’s _always_ yelling.”

“But everyone’s rushing around! That never happens!”

All the prisoners were whispering together, eyes straining in the faint firelight to guess what was happening. Freya pushed herself off of Gwen’s shoulder to sit up and see better, and Gwen winced as the blood went rushing back into her arm and her bound hands.

“What’s happening, do you suppose?” the waterbender muttered, struggling into a good position with her hands tied behind her back.

Gwen threw a quick glance at the guards to make sure they were properly distracted. “If I were to take a guess, I’d say our friends are here,” she murmured.

Cedric snorted. “If that’s them, they’ve lost the element of surprise.” Freya nudged him with her elbow.

One of the other prisoners, a big, strong woman named Isolde, was watching also. “They’re gearing up for a fight,” she agreed. “For your sake, I hope it’s not your friends.” Her husband, Tristan, had not moved from where he lay on the ground. In fact, he had not done more than move his head a little since Gwen, Freya, and Cedric were dragged into the camp that afternoon; Gwen hoped there was nothing seriously wrong with him.

The bandits’ prisoners, seven in all, were kept a little ways’ away from the camp, but still within sight. They were tied on a wooden platform that was raised up from the ground---a precaution against earthbending. There were six guards around them, and Gwen glanced at them again. She couldn’t really see anything that was happening in the camp. She _had_ to know if Arthur had come for them. If they had a chance of escaping, maybe all seven prisoners could rise up together. She knew that Isolde and Tristan were both waterbenders, as well as Freya and Cedric, which made four out of the three that would not be affected by their inability to touch the ground. They might just have a chance if they all worked together . . .

Isolde sucked in a sudden breath through her nose, and Gwen turned to see what she saw. A tall, muscular figure was coming towards them. As he got closer, Gwen could see he had a dark, craggy face.

One of the other prisoners, a villager, hissed. “Odin.” It sounded like a curse.

The man came to a stop before them, his face flickering in the firelight. _So_ , Gwen thought. _This is their leader. The infamous Odin_. She had heard many whispered insults about him in the last few hours, before one of the guards had become angry at them and they had had to stop. She thought he looked fierce and cold as his eyes fell on her.

“Your friends are foolish to attack us tonight,” he murmured. “What are they hoping to gain?”

Gwen said nothing. It was fairly obvious, to her at least, what their rescuers’ aims were.

His dark eyes narrowed. “I hope you know that the only reason we haven’t destroyed all of you yet is because of the good work you’ll be doing for us in the mine. If all of you cooperate, then your friends can join you and live. We’ll let you go once we have what we want.”

Gwen doubted it. Freya cowered a little bit more behind her back. The hullabaloo in the bandit camp had calmed down a bit as everyone took their stations. Gwen could see Odin’s second, Sarrum, standing not too far away, a huge sword in his hand.

“You’d better be scared of our friends,” Cedric burst out. He was sweating, even in the chill mountain air. “We may be small in number, but we’re mighty.”

“Cedric, hush!” Gwen hissed, suddenly afraid of what he might say.

He ignored her, his eyes glinting maliciously. He probably thought he was scaring Odin with his talk. “Earthbenders, waterbenders, firebenders---you’d better watch out when they come for you! You won’t know what hit you.”

Odin’s eyes were gleaming. “Firebenders?” he breathed. “There are firebenders in your group?”

Cedric nodded, triumphant. “You know how dangerous they are! Watch your back.”

Gwen stared at the bandit chief, her breath caught in her throat. She could have hit Cedric---not a normal feeling for her---but Odin’s expression was triumphant.

“Thanks for the tip, boy,” the bandit chief said, his mouth curling into a smile. He turned to saunter away. One of the other prisoners leaned forward suddenly.

“The goddess curse you, Odin!” he yelled furiously. “May she rain fire on your camp and burn you like you’ve always feared!”

Odin smirked a little. “I’d like to see her try,” he taunted, and walked away.

* * *

 

“---then the canyon crawler _lunged_ at me! I had to beat it off with naught but my shirt wrapped around my fist!”

Merlin could barely speak for laughing. “When did you take your shirt off?!”

“Earlier, remember? Eira had practically fainted, of course, but it was no trouble defending her. Really, it was my pleasure!”

Mithian, walking not far ahead, rolled her eyes. Gwaine’s non-stop exploits, which had began in the village and continued on the hike towards the bandit camp, mainly consisted of beautiful women and how Gwaine had saved them from nasty creatures or villains. Merlin could not help but wonder how much of the stories were actually fact, but they were certainly entertaining. Gwaine’s claim that he knew where the bandit camp was had been a stretch: he had led them back to the Disir elders’ hut and recruited George to lead them up the mountain. The earthbender was at the front, and Merlin saw he had paused and was moving his head from side to side like he was sniffing for something. The fading sunlight was filtering through the trees above them, casting bands of soft light and dark shadow on the ground.

“You lost?” Arthur inquired. George turned to give him a small but respectful bow.

“Just checking my bearings, good sir,” George replied. “You can’t expect perfection of earthbenders, of course; we all have our faults.” Merlin and Mithian both sighed.

“That one really has a store of earthbending jokes, doesn’t he?” Gwaine muttered, smirking. Elena looked confused at this, but Merlin had grown up in the Earth Kingdom, so he understood.

“Yes, my favorite so far: ‘You won’t get over this mountain joke I’m about to tell you.’” The firebender rolled his eyes, but Gwaine and Elena burst into laughter. Mithian whipped around in annoyance.

“Would you keep it down?” she hissed as George set off again. “They might have sentinels out here! We don’t want to be caught before it’s time.”

Merlin felt properly chastened (he did know about seismic sense after all), but Gwaine swept her a bow. “Of course, my lady. Very remiss of us.”

Mithian narrowed her eyes. She could tell when she was being made fun of, but she turned away to walk off. Merlin was sure that would have been the end of it if Gwaine hadn’t added under his breath, “Whew! You two princesses . . .”

Probably a good thing Arthur was too far ahead to hear, but Mithian clenched her fists. “Do you have a problem with nobles, Gwaine? Because I can tell you, _I_ have a problem with people judging me because of my background.”

He shrugged easily. “Never said I had a problem. Just pointed out that you and Arthur seem to have a superiority complex, that’s all.”

“A superiority complex?” Mithian demanded, coming to a stop in a band of sunlight. Merlin saw Lancelot and Elena exchange nervous looks. “You don’t even know us!”

“What’s going on?” Arthur had noticed the disturbance and he came to stand at Mithian’s side, Leon behind him. George was still waiting some ways off. The prince’s shoulders were slumped, his eyebrows drawn close together with worry. Merlin reflected that Gwaine and Mithian arguing was, of course, _just_ what their already strained party needed at this point.

“Look, it doesn’t matter right now,” Merlin began quickly, taking an aborted step forward. Now was _not_ the time to be arguing---but Gwaine cut him off.

“He’s right, it doesn’t matter. We have our own opinions. I just happen to question everyone’s motives, that’s all. _I’m_ here to save the village, but what are you here for? To save your throne?”

Mithian opened her mouth hotly, but Arthur had obviously had enough. “I’m not even going to _be_ the Firelord!” he snapped. “If you’re so worried about my motives, _you_ can have the throne, for all I care!”

All the breath huffed out of Merlin at this, and he turned to stare at Arthur, angry words and thoughts and accusations swirling inside of him. Before any of these inner conflicts could make their way out, Leon called from ahead of them. Merlin did not understand what he said, but the Dai Li agent had sprinted away into the bush, George hot on his heels.

“Leon?!” Mithian called, and started after him. The sun had almost set in earnest now, and Merlin found himself tripping even more than usual as he and the rest of the group trampled after Leon and George. Leon had been using seismic sense to “scout ahead”; perhaps he had sensed something?

It did not take long to find him. Leon was wrestling with a dirty, terrified man on the forest floor while George looked on impassively. By his garb and weapons, he was one of the bandits.

“A scout,” Leon huffed as Percival and Arthur raced forward to help subdue the man. “He was trying to get back to camp without alerting us.”

“Let me go! Let me go!” the man yelled.

“Shut him up!” Mithian yelped. “There could be more!”

After the struggle, the man seemed too exhausted to yell anymore. He sagged in Leon’s and Arthur’s grasp, gazing up at them in fear. Having been on that side of Arthur’s wrath, Merlin would definitely relate.

Arthur shook his arm; Merlin bit his tongue to keep from protesting at this violence. “Have you come from the bandit camp?” The man nodded mutely. “Where do they keep the prisoners?”

“I---I don’t know! Please don’t hurt me! I just do what I’m told!”

“Yeah, because you want to get paid!” Gwaine scoffed. “You can’t fool us, mate---we know about the mine.”

The man’s eyes were swimming with tears. “No, you don’t understand! Odin threatened my family! I had to, I had to do what he asked.” The sight of him, pinned down and weeping, was pathetic. Elena was clutching Lancelot’s arm, her face a picture of sympathy.

Arthur looked disgusted. “So you joined them and hurt other people instead? How noble of you.”

The man sniffed. “You don’t understand. I _have_ to. I _have_ to.”

“Wrong.” Arthur spoke softly. “You _always_ have a choice.”

Merlin thought his snort was inaudible, but Arthur whipped around immediately, his fist still gripping the front of the bandit’s tunic. “Have something to say, Merlin?” he asked in his sweetest, most dangerous tone.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “Nothing, _sire_.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Out with it, firebender. I can tell you’ve got something you’re dying to say.”

Merlin shrugged, and for a moment he thought about holding in the raging fire that was building up inside of him. Then Arthur’s eyebrow raised towards his hairline, and Merlin’s careful control snapped.

“I just think it’s kinda of, I don’t know - _hypocritical_ of you to harangue that man about hurting people, considering.”

“Considering -?” Arthur shook his head. “Merlin, sometimes I really think there’s a little girl hiding under those scarecrow clothes. You talk like a gap-witted old woman. _What_ are you babbling about?”

The argument had so engrossed their entire party that none of them took note of the thin, snake-like shapes slithering towards them to the trees; Percival saw them a second too late. “Leon---” he started, but a vine had already snuck out of the trees and yanked the Dai Li agent back. More burst off of the bark and from the leaves, snaking around their limbs and weapons. Merlin saw one reaching for his neck and instinctively lashed out---the vine fell to the ground, withering and smoking. Mithian had been yanked completely off her feet.  Arthur was furiously hacking at an ‘attacker’ with Excalibur.

The bandit, his face still streaked with tears, was on his feet, hands weaving and directing the vines. Merlin tried to get closer, but it was no use: the vines were thickest around him.

Elena had lost her staff, but both she and Lancelot were free, whipping and weaving through the vines. “What kind of bending is this?” she yelled, vaulting over a particularly vicious jab and immediately leaping up again as another vine tried to snake around her ankle.

“Waterbending---skilled waterbenders can control plants!” Percival called back, slicing through several vines at once with spikes of ice, stopping them just before they crushed Leon’s ribs. “We need to get out of this grove. There’re too many vines to get at him.”

“Agreed,” Leon gasped, clutching at his side and wincing as he ran over to Princess Mithian and joined in her defense. She and Gwaine were fighting back-to-back, all animosity forgotten---for the moment.

Arthur had been working his way towards the bandit and was finding just as much success as Merlin had. Merlin rolled his eyes at the prince’s--- _Arthur’s_ \---stubbornness, and raced forward, pulling his hand back.

A gout of fire blasted just by Arthur’s head, and he jerked aside with a surprised oath, looking first at the smoking remains of the vine that had been about to wind itself around his neck, and then at the irate firebender who had destroyed it. “ _Mer_ -lin,” he began in annoyance, “that was almost my head!”

“My aim is off today,” Merlin shot back, shrugging his shoulders. Anger was still crawling through his blood like lava, and he spun, vaporizing six more vines one after the other with furious jabs of his fists, _pow pow pow pow pow pow_.

He heard Arthur remark, “This must be what it’s like to have a wife.” Then: “Everyone - make a run for it! That rock pile over there---we’ll hold them off!” A second later, the Fire Prince was at Merlin’s side, Excalibur slicing through air, root, and branch with equal ease. He sliced through a set of vines that was determined to trip Percival as he helped a faltering Leon away, while Mithian protected them from the other side with slicing rocks and earth shields. Gwaine took up their rear, his movements lightning-quick and razor-sharp.

Merlin blasted the leaves off of a vine that was shooting through the air after Elena, putting so much of his anger and frustration into it that it nearly overshot the target, scorching at the airbender’s heels. “Quite an updraft, firebender,” Elena laughed, soaring over their heads towards the relative safety of the rock formation.

George had reached the rocks first, and was quickly erecting earthen bulwarks using remarkably smooth, efficient earthbending. The others ran through, leaving only Arthur and Merlin standing back-to-back inside the grove, living vines hissing and rattling all around them. The sun’s light had all but faded by then, so Merlin lit his two fists with a cry that was half roar. The ground was alive with masses of vines, so thick they looked like enormous snakes continuously writhing over and under each other. The bandit was advancing towards them. Merlin recognized the look on his face now: he was one with the water and vines.

“We’ll never make it if we try to run,” Merlin realized. “He’s an enormously powerful bender, but he’s in too deep, too determined.”

“I do seem to keep annoying those,” Arthur murmured, ducking a vine that shot at his face and slicing it in two. Privately, Merlin agreed. “What do we do?”

Merlin shook his head. “When I tell you, you’re going to run as fast as you can towards the rocks.”

“And you?” Arthur’s head came around, staring in surprise.

“I’ll be fine.” Merlin hoped fervently that that was the truth. “You need to be well away before I can make my move.”

Arthur hesitated, then shook his head vehemently. “No. I’m not leaving you alone to the mercy of these things.”

“That would make a change.” Merlin knew that he should have kept his mouth closed, but the words came out almost without his conscious volition. He breathed in, as deep as he could, and took a wide stance.

Arthur stared at him like he had sprouted a second head. “Is this about what I said earlier?”

“It doesn’t matter, Arthur!” Merlin cried, turning and shoving Arthur as far as he could. “Get _back,_ ” he roared. Whatever Arthur glimpsed on his face in that moment, it seemed to do the trick. He caught a glimpse of Arthur running away before the flames burst out of him - hands, feet, and mouth, turning the grove around him into smoking piles of ash, smoke billowing up towards the silver shape of the moon. As he caught his breath, hands on his knees, he forced his eyes to stay away from the charred corpse of the plantbender, the one who had only been trying to protect his family . . .

A minute later Merlin walked out of the silent grove, shoulders slumped with exhaustion. He passed Arthur and Mithian, staring with ashen faces, and through the others, who stood around in silent groups.

Only one of them approached him, and clapped him gently on the shoulder. “Feel better?” Gwaine asked, a twinkle in his eye.

Merlin shook his head. “We need to keep on going with the plan,” he muttered.


	15. Turning the Tides

Near silence had fallen on the bandit camp. Freya could hardly see anything, but even she could sense the building anticipation. Bandits stood in strategic spots around the camp, carrying swords, knives, or else just holding themselves in bending stances. Odin and Sarrum were nowhere to be seen.

“We’ve got to do something,” she heard Gwen mutter. The earthbender turned to her. “Can you bend?” Her lips were barely moving so that the guards couldn’t hear.

Freya hesitated. Bending with hands and feet bound was hard, she knew---or at least guessed, having never been bound before. “Maybe,” she breathed back.

Cedric, lying behind her, was trembling. She felt a flash of anger at him; why had he told Odin about Merlin? If he got Merlin hurt, she would never forgive him.

But they would have to work together if this was going to succeed.

She looked at the guards again. Only one was facing them, and her eyes were distractedly roving the forest, looking for threats.

Freya nudged Cedric; he looked at her in question, his eyes wide. She gulped:  _ If I get my last brother killed because of my stupidity . . . _

She did not let herself finish that thought.

Gwen and Cedric were still looking at her. She took a deep breath.

“We’ve got to do something,” she muttered to her brother. “We’re the only ones who can bend on the wood.”

He looked at her like she was crazy. “How are we supposed to do anything tied up?”

“We’ll think of something,” she replied, her heart rate tripling. Isolde had noticed their whispers and turned her head towards them. “There’s only four of them.”

“We’re going to get killed!” he insisted.

“Hey!” He’d spoken too loudly. One of the guards came over, eyebrows scrunched together. “You need to be quiet! What are you talking about over here?”

Freya froze, her eyes wide.

A great roar came up from the main camp. Freya twisted just in time to see two rocks twisting and shattering against each other. An earthbender’s fight. One of the campfires sputtered, then roared up. A figure, shape shivering in the heat, stood behind it.

Freya smiled. She could feel the water in the air around her, in the tree and the leaves. She drew in a long, deep breath---

\---and took her chance.

* * *

“I think they’re taking the bait,” Lancelot breathed, his eyes closed as he listened carefully. “They’re preparing for an attack.”

Arthur tightened his grip on Excalibur’s hilt. “Not much longer, then.” His muscles were starting to cramp from the unusually contorted position he was in. He could hardly see anything through the leaves and branches thickly clustered around them, but even he could pick out the sounds of the bandits preparing for an attack.

They all listened carefully, straining their eyes to catch their cues. Lancelot and Elena were huddled together, with Arthur and Percival facing them. They could hear the sounds of shouting, but no fighting yet.

“Will this really work?” Elena breathed, her eyes wide with anticipation and fright.

Arthur did not answer. He didn’t  _ know _ the answer. All he cared about was getting to Gwen and getting her out. Surviving himself felt secondary at this point.

“Listen!” Lancelot hissed. “Is that---?”

Arthur listened. “Firebending,” he confirmed, hearing the tell-tale swish and roar of flames, accompanied by yells of surprise and fear. He remembered the moment of panic earlier when Merlin had almost incinerated  _ him _ along with the vines; the thought of the bandits feeling that made him grin a little.

“Showtime,” Elena chirped overenthusiastically. She reached out and pushed the nearest branch out of the way: the camp came into view. The four slipped quietly through branches, careful not to slip out of the trees or knock anything on the ground. They would only leave the trees when they had no choice. This had been Mithian’s idea, so that the earthbenders could not sense them through their footsteps.

“I see the prisoners,” Percival breathed triumphantly. “Up ahead to the left.” Arthur, still moving forward, followed his directions and saw seven bandits surrounding a group of people tied up on a makeshift wooden platform. Arthur searched and---there she was, near the farthest edge, her dark hair blowing wildly. He felt like he couldn’t breathe for a second.

As they watched, just in that second, a struggle broke out among the prisoners. One of them---Freya?---had managed to bend, and the guards were rushing over to subdue her. 

Lancelot gasped and sprang forward. His glider flipped open, and he flew almost to where the guards and prisoners were before landing and sprinting the rest of the way.

Elena was close on his heels, her airbending carrying her almost twenty feet beyond the treeline before she landed. There were more shouts of alarm from the bandits and Arthur felt the earth shake as he jumped down from the lower branches and raced forward, Excalibur clasped in his hands. If they could just get to the prisoners and free a few of them, then defeating the bandits would be that much easier.

Lancelot and Elena had little combat training, as was to be expected of airbenders. Luckily, all they really had to do was dodge and get past the bandits: Percival and Arthur were perfectly able to take care of themselves, swords jabbing and slashing and gleaming in the firelight. Practicing bending forms with Mithian and Merlin may have seemed useless to them, but every practice had given Arthur more experience that he was now using against the earthbenders.

Elena was fast approaching the wooden platform, twirling around the ruffians when they swung at her, avoiding stones and jutting rocks at every turn. She was like a leaf that blew ever closer to the prisoners.

Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw the prisoners sitting up now, struggling against their bonds. The arrival of Arthur, Percival, Lancelot, and Elena had distracted their guards, but he still prayed fervently that Elena would get to them quickly enough.

Excalibur struck home again; there were now only four bandits left guarding the prisoners. Elena and Lancelot had reached them, but were being attacked by a particularly skilled earthbender. Arthur clenched his teeth and engaged even more fiercely with his own opponent. They would  _ not _ lose.

“Stop!”

Even the bandits flinched as this bellow burst out. Arthur’s opponent stumbled back a little, and Fire Prince spared a second’s glance at who had yelled. His blood ran cold.

A huge, bald man stood a little ways off, his teeth bared in a fearsome grin. There was a young man---boy, really---with him: with one hand the huge man clutched the boy’s arm and with the other he held a knife to his throat. Six more bandits stood behind him.

“Don’t you want to save these prisoners?” the man boomed, his huge voice echoing all the way out to the surrounding trees. “Then lay down your weapons before we start killing them.”

Arthur stared, outraged. He could see the boy trembling from where he was standing.

“We’ve come to free the prisoners!” the prince declared. “Let the boy go, and you can live!”

The huge man laughed, and the four bandits laughed with him. “I am Sarrum,” the man said, “and I don’t bargain. Drop your sword and stand down, or you’ll see  _ a lot _ of blood tonight, starting with this pesky waterbender’s.”

The boy closed his eyes, swallowing nervously.

A thin voice came from behind them, strained and weak. “Daegal!”

The boy’s eyes snapped open. “Mother?” he squeaked.

One of the prisoners was wriggling closer despite her bonds, a long, blond braid weaving over her shoulder. Another blond man was right behind her, his desperate eyes on the boy in Sarrum’s hands.

“Mother? Father!” the boy cried, starting forward, but Sarrum pressed in the knife harder.

“Behave, child,” the bandit hissed. “Don’t upset me.” Arthur clenched his teeth, but he was caught between a rock and a hard place. There were now too many bandits to defeat without the prisoners’ help, but how were they supposed to release the prisoners without first being slaughtered?

His hesitation told Sarrum all he needed to know. The bandit’s smile widened, and he gestured his bandits forward. “Take their weapons,” he commanded casually. Daegal’s head drooped forward in despair.

The bandits drew near, weapons at the ready, but were forced back as the ground shuddered and cracked, a chasm opening between Arthur and Sarrum. Arthur flinched back as a wave of heat and light streamed out of the chasm, and a piercingly red liquid poured out.

Fire? Arthur blinked, and realized:  _ lava _ . He had been to volcanos before, in the Fire Nation. But who---?

A figure dashed out of the darkness, flames blossoming on his fingertips. One bandit was blasted aside before the others even had a chance to react, and a sudden panic broke out as Merlin landed in their midst, tossing flames in all directions. Just as he had in Ba Sing Se, Arthur saw the firebender take a traditional earthbending stance, holding his ground and punching out with precision and strength, his expression tight and angry.

Another figure, wavy in the heat and smoke, came forward. As the figure gestured sharply, more lava poured out of the ground, forcing the bandits even further back. Arthur gaped and he heard Elena’s loud, “George?!” The servant paid her no mind, sweat pouring down his calm face as he advanced.

Arthur had almost forgotten about the bandits on  _ their _ side of the yawning chasm. He saw movement and managed to get Excalibur up in time to not be skewered. The fight was short, but by the time he had turned around again, Merlin had leapt onto their side of the sluggishly flowing lava, his face eerily lit by the flames. George had come close to Arthur’s side, and the prince’s heart soared as he saw that the boy, Daegal, had escaped Sarrum’s grasp and was now clutching at Merlin’s arm like a lost puppy.

Sarrum was yelling, his teeth bared. “You can’t defeat all of us!” he roared, his voice sounding much smaller over the crackle of flames and hiss of lava. “We will overwhelm you!” More bandits were racing in from where Merlin and George and come from, but Arthur could see nothing of Mithian, Leon, or Gwaine. His heart beat faster as he watched all their opponents, because Sarrum was right. George’s unusual abilities were great ( _ Lavabending _ ?  _ Really _ ?), but even that could only take them so far. The bandits were splitting into two groups, coming in from either side of the rift.

A dark, chilly voice sounded out over the flames. “Take them. But leave the firebender to me. I have a bone to pick with him.” It was a man with a craggy face. The way he held himself and way even Sarrum nodded without arguing told Arthur immediately that  _ this _ was the real leader, the man Gwaine had named Odin.  _ This _ was the one they really needed to worry about.

Merlin made an irritated noise. “Him, again?” He raised his voice. “Scared of firebenders, are you?” Merlin taunted, his chin going up.

Odin looked at him coldly. “No, but I hate every last one of you,” he responded baldly. Merlin gulped a little at this statement.

The bandits were getting antsy. With a growl, one came barreling forwards towards George. Calmly, the servant swiped his hand sharply at the ground. With a hiss and faint roar, even more lava burst from the earth; the bandit skidded to a stop and fell back. Odin rolled his eyes a little.

“It would seem we are at an impasse,” Arthur said loudly, his voice carrying through the clearing. “I’m sure we can come up with a trade. We’ll leave you peacefully if you give us the prisoners. No more blood shed.”

Odin did not even look at him. He was watching Merlin---or perhaps behind Merlin, where Daegal was? Arthur heard a soft whimper from one of the prisoners. “I have a better idea,” the bandit chief said. “Why don’t you come work with us? We could use people of your skill. Why, once you see what we’ve found, you’ll be begging to join us!”

“I don’t think so,” Elena replied before Arthur could. “Kidnapping and banditry aren’t really our style.”

“And yet, it seems you’d be good at it,” Odin pointed out, surveying the scene of destruction around them. He was definitely looking at Daegal now. The boy was staring resolutely in the opposite direction, still clutching at Merlin’s arm. “I’ve found that anyone will do  _ anything _ , once they have the right motivation.”

Arthur did not have time to fully process this odd statement, when the rogues moved closer at Odin’s signal, hefting weapons and baring teeth. Arthur repositioned Excalibur in his hand, preparing himself, hearing Percival shift his feet behind him. Merlin’s stance widened, and George raised his arms to call more lava from the earth. Daegal, Arthur noticed vaguely, did not fall into waterbending forms, but an unfamiliar form that he had not seen while watching Percival practice. The boy’s whole body grew stiff instead of relaxing, and he drew his arms in close to his body, hands spread out in a strange, clawed shape.

Merlin attacked first, of course, with Percival right behind. Arthur hefted Excalibur in his hand, admiring how easy it was to wield this blade.

The bandit didn’t even reach him. Pain exploded through every inch of Arthur’s body. His muscles locked, his tendons tightened, and he felt like his very bones were creaking under some invisible weight. For a moment, Arthur felt sure he had been hit on the head with a rock---what else could explain this terrible pain?

Someone was screaming. As he finally was able to think past the pain, he saw it was Elena. Her body was hanging in the air above the prisoners, limbs contorted unnaturally. George Arthur could not see, but Merlin was close to Percival, also struggling against invisible bonds. The bandits were laughing, pleased with the results. He could barely see the blond man and woman, Daegal’s parents, watching with tears streaming down their cheeks.

Anger burned in Arthur’s heart. All he could move were his eyes, but he searched around for the culprit.

Daegal was still in the stiff, unnatural bending position, facing the others with his arms outstretched. He was crying silently, but he did not flinch as he forced Merlin to his knees in front of Odin. The bandit chief came from triumphantly, face lit up devilishly by the fire and lava, twirling his sword through the air. “Good job, Daegal. Your parents will live another night.” He looked down at Merlin, smirking. “You may be a firebender, young man, but you made a mistake in attacking at night. That’s when my bloodbender is most powerful.”

Every inch of Arthur’s body, inside and out, felt like it was on fire; he was locked in place by flames. How could a waterbender make him feel like he was burning? A bandit came towards him, laughing opening, and pried Excalibur from his aching fingers. His heart pounded with anger and despair as he saw his friends in similar positions: Lancelot struggled to pull in deep breaths through tight lungs, George’s normally calm face was panicked, and Merlin, forced to his knees before Odin.

Arthur could see the prisoners struggling as Odin raised his sword up to Merlin’s neck. Gwen was yelling behind two bandits that held her down. Freya was weeping silently and did not seem able to look away.

None of them were able to talk as Odin raised his sword. The bandit chief’s expression was triumphant. Arthur struggled to talk, but his jaw was locked; nothing could pass through.

“Every firebender I kill is justice for my son,” the bandit chief breathed. He brought the sword high, and  _ SWISH _ it came down again.

Arthur closed his eyes. All he could think about in that moment was that Merlin had been angry at him.  

The blow never landed. A sharp  _ CRACK _ echoed around the clearing, and Odin staggered. A stone, sling-shotted at incredible speeds, had knocked his sword clean out of his hands. It spun around on the ground for a second, then lay still near George, bent quite in half.

Mithian alighted from the trees like an avenging angel, her face dark and purposeful. “Let them go!” she commanded. Arthur had never been more glad to see her.

Odin bared his teeth. “No,” he snarled.

“Look out---” Daegal’s mother got out, but it was too late. Elena’s tears refused to fall as Mithian, too, was caught in Daegal’s grasp.

“You see, girl?” Odin taunted as another bandit handed him a replacement sword. “You cannot stop me. I’m too powerful.”

Somehow, Mithian grinned. The ground rocked, and Daegal fell, dislodged by the shifting earth beneath his feet. As his concentration broke, so did his spell. Arthur fell like a puppet with cut strings, jarring his elbow on the ground, but he jumped immediately to his feet and punched the nearest bandit. The moving ground had been caused by Leon, who came out of his hiding place swinging.

Daegal recovered quickly, trapping the Dai Li agent where he stood; he even managed to keep hold of Leon when Percival appeared and slashed him with a whip of water. Daegal grabbed the whip himself and slashed back, gritting his teeth against the pain. Arthur could not focus on what everyone was doing at the same time, but he was vaguely aware of Elena jumping forward to help---she and Percival were trapped by his bloodbending in the same move. Fire and earth clashed together nearby as Odin pursued Merlin across the field.

“I’m sorry,” Daegal muttered. “I’m so sorry.”

He had not noticed Gwaine, who came up behind him. Arthur finished off one bandit in time to see Gwaine swing--- but the boy moved aside. For just a second Elena and Percival could move again, until Daegal had danced backwards and caught them in his grasp. He raised his hands towards Gwaine, and Arthur felt his heart sink; what hope was there in fighting a bloodbender, especially under the moon?

Gwaine smiled. Daegal frowned. “You’ll find that won’t work on me,” the Tribesman snarled, and swung.

Arthur heard someone yell, “No!” but it was too late. Daegal’s head hit the ground before his body did.

* * *

All was chaos: Percival could suddenly hear everything that was going on around him: the crash of swords, the hiss of lava, the crunch of rubble and stone. He brought up water from the grass in one fluid movement, while Gwaine had turned to engage another bandit before Daegal’s body had settled in the charred grass. Elena was doing her best to defend herself without her staff, gathering the air around her, moving and twisting and whispering like  _ she _ was made of air.

Between Leon’s and Mithian’s fierce earthbending, Arthur’s and Gwaine’s swordsmanship, and the eventual release of the prisoners, the number of bandits soon thinned. Daegal’s mother and father were an unstoppable team; Percival was freezing bandits in ice left and right, but they took no prisoners. He had lost sight of Merlin, but he felt his heart start to life with hope.

Sarrum had been engaged with Mithian, a huge broadsword clenched in his fist. His face was contorted with rage. Percival heard Leon growl as the ruffian swept his arm out at Mithian and threw her aside. The princess fell on the half-cooled lava and struggled to roll away, yelling in pain. 

Sarrum turned and saw Arthur fighting two bandits at once; the prince’s back was turned to the bald bandit, and Elena, who was closest, rushed forward as Sarrum withdrew a dagger from his belt and threw it at the prince’s back.

It was too fast for Percival to do anything, but he struggled forward helplessly anyway as Elena jumped, light-footed, like she had wings, inbetween the prince and the knife.

Sarrum gave a yell of anger as Elena hit the ground, the dagger going with her. Gwaine roared and rushed forward to engage Sarrum in battle. Lancelot had frozen several feet away, staring down at his fallen friend like he had become a statue.

Percival reached Elena first, with Arthur close behind after he made short work of his two opponents. Her entire right side was soaked with blood: the knife had smashed into her arm at a bad angle, leaving the appendage mangled and twisted. As Percival grasped her in his arms, she shuddered, her wide blue eyes staring up at the sky but seeing nothing.

“She’s alive!” Arthur gasped, his hands fluttering around her arm as he tried to figure out what he should press on to stop the bleeding.

Lancelot was at their sides at a second. “Elena, Elena,” he chanted, cradling her face in his hands. “Elena.” He didn’t seem able to say anything else. The noise of the last bandits being captured seemed to fade away; the only thing that mattered in that moment was saving Elena.

Percival met Arthur’s eyes. They both knew what had to be done. Arthur whipped off his belt and cinched it around Elena’s upper arm; she did not even wince as he pulled it tight. “What are you doing?” Lancelot gasped fearfully, tears glinting in the firelight as Percival pulled out his dagger.

“There’s not saving that arm, Lance,” Percival replied grimly. “It’ll only hurt her more if we leave it on.”

Lancelot gulped, but he reached out to take Elena in his arms, slowly and gently. “I’ll hold her steady,” he said, his voice trembling. “Just do it.”

Lancelot did not watch as Percival cut the few muscles and tendons that were still attached, but his grip on her was tight, and when the waterbender was done, he pulled off his overshirt to press to the wound.

Gwaine came up after, his face grim and set. There was more blood on the blade. “Will she live?” he asked sharply as the others, bedraggled and bruised, came up as well.

“I don’t know,” Percival answered slowly, watching the arm carefully. “Only time will tell.” Gwen came up behind Gwaine, her hands and wrists swollen, but she still limped closer and put one hand on Arthur’s shoulder and the other on Lancelot’s. The airbender did not seem to notice, but Arthur reached up to grasp her hand as if it were a lifeline.

Mithian was drooping; Leon was fussing over her left arm, which had been badly burned. She said gravely, “We have a problem. Odin isn’t among the prisoners or the dead.”

Arthur was looking around at their little group, perturbed. His eyes darted to each face, then over to where Daegal’s parents watched the prisoners. Whatever he saw made his brow furrow even more.

“Arthur?” Mithian asked sharply. “What is it?” The Fire Prince turned to her, blue eyes wide.

“Where is Merlin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, these people just can't catch a break, can they? NOW what's going to happen?! Stay tuned! :)
> 
> Hey, if any of you like Bollywood movies or the TV show Teen Wolf, you should go check out the story my sister General San 3 wrote, A Match Made on a Train. She listed me as a co-author even though I've only written one scene, so you can find it on my profile :D She's a great writer; I really encourage you to read it!


	16. Merlin Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a brutal fight with the bandits, Arthur noticed that Merlin was missing. Now, our hero runs for his life through the woods.

Merlin was currently being chased through the woods by Odin. Running away wasn’t normally Merlin’s style, but after everything that had happened in the last day and night he was hardly able to keep putting one foot in front of the other to get away, let alone fight toe-to-toe with a crazed, power-hungry earthbender. With every step he took into the woods his heart pounded more clearly in his ears; he was not sure how he would make it back to his friends now.

_ Regroup, _ he thought.  _ I have to find somewhere to hide and regroup. Get my breath back so that I stand a fighting chance against Odin. _

But where could he hide from an earthbender? Not on the ground.

Merlin groaned in his head, because he already knew the answer. Pausing only a second, he launched himself at a nearby tree that didn’t look too tall. It was covered in moss and vines, perfect for climbing---if you were fighting fit, of course, and not made of all thumbs like Merlin was. He slipped and fell twice, his breath coming even faster, his eyes darting towards the direction he had come. He could hear the faint crashing and cursing that meant Odin was still on his tail. Finally he made it up into the branches, but he had enough experience with earthbenders to know he could not stay there, so he scampered as best he could through the leaves---thanking whoever would and could listen that the trees grew so close together that even  _ he _ could move through their branches with relative ease.

As the sounds of Odin’s chase came closer and closer, Merlin slowed down, trying to move as quietly as he could through the leaves, testing each branch to see if it would hold his weight before he moved onto it. He could only pray that that would be enough until he managed to catch a second wind.

Odin crashed through bushes, skidding to a halt where Merlin had climbed up, his craggy face wrinkled even more from anger and exertion. His toes flexed in the dark soil and his dark eyes scanned up in the trees: he knew there was nowhere else for Merlin to have gone.

“I know you’re up there, boy!” he yelled. “You think you’re clever, climbing the trees to hide from me, but you can’t have gone far! Come out, and I’ll make it quick.”

Merlin tried not to shudder. As the echoes of Odin’s voice died out, Merlin became intensely aware of how quiet it was in the woods, even for nighttime. No birds, no bees, not even the croak of a squirreltoad or the faint growl of the puma goat. Perhaps all the ruckus he and Odin had made had driven everything off, but Merlin could not escape the feeling that this part of the woods had been silent since before he got here. It just meant he would have to be extra careful and quiet.

He turned, quietly, softly, to steady himself on another branch. He reached without even looking---and touched something soft, wet, and warm. Something that growled at him.

Merlin whipped around, saw what he had touched, gave a yell, and fell sideways off the limb he was perched on. Odin whooped in triumph and raced forward towards his prey as the firebender hit the ground with a painful  _ Oooff!!! _ The bandit chief gestured at the ground as if he was raising the dead, and a spike of earth came up, right under Merlin. He rolled to escape, but it cut into his shoulder as it shot upward. Somehow, Merlin found his feet and staggered backwards into a tree, gasping as his cut shoulder scraped against the rough bark.

Odin planted his feet firmly, thrusting his hand out to send a wave of earth and splinters at Merlin. The firebender rolled out of the way. Percival’s waterbending training kicked in, and as he came up on his knees he used the momentum of his movement to launch flames towards Odin. The earthbender avoided the blast, but it left him wrong-footed for a moment, just long enough for Merlin to punch at him again.

It was the kind of showdown many people would have paid to see: earthbender vs. firebender; substance vs. power; will vs. force. Merlin might have found it exciting if he had not been so worried for his life as he ducked, parried, and wove in and out of trees, trying to gain some kind of advantage over the older and more experienced Odin.

He had completely forgotten about what he saw in the trees.

Merlin tripped over a tree root and fell heavily onto his hands and knees, his breath coming in and out like his lungs were fit to burst. Odin towered over him in triumph, two large rocks held in the air over his head. “Good-bye,” the earthbender said simply, and brought both rocks whistling down.

Time slowed down, or at least seemed to.

They say that right before you die, your life flashes before your eyes. Merlin had always thought that meant he would think about his parents, his stepfather, his brother, the first time he had firebended, his first kiss, meeting Morgana and Gaius, the first time he’d beaten Thomas in training, and even the new part of his life: Arthur, Gwen, Lancelot, Freya, all the other friends he had met in the last few weeks.

But he didn’t think anything at all. Instead, he  _ felt _ .

The rocks Odin had lifted to smush Merlin were creaking and groaning as they came, in slow motion, towards him. They cut, not smoothly, but with a rumble, through the air. He could hear and  _ feel _ that rumble. His hands were pressed flat against the ground, and he  _ felt  _ Odin, his heartbeat, his breathing, the rush of blood in his veins, the very warmth coming off his skin. Merlin could even feel all the way to the camp, his friends and foes together.

He could feel the creature in the trees above him.

Instinctively, Merlin threw himself backwards onto the ground, ignoring the pain from his shoulder, and by some miracle both rocks missed him by a hair. Immediately, he kicked at Odin, who had to jump out of the way to avoid being set on fire.

As the earthbender jumped back, a white  _ something _ dropped from above with a roar of flames, fangs, and claws, and landed on Odin’s back. The bandit chief did not have much chance to fight. Merlin watched in horror and fascination as the creature tore into Odin with black teeth, its blue eyes glowing.

Within a moment it was over; Odin lay still on the ground with his assailant still on top of him. Gulping down bile, Merlin froze, hoping against hope it would forget him if he didn’t move. The creature was about the size of a wolf, with white scales and translucent wings. The area around its mouth was smeared with blood, and its tongue was hanging out like a dog’s---just as it had been when Merlin had accidentally touched it in the trees. It did not seem interested in eating what was left of Odin, but instead turned towards Merlin, watching him with intensely focused blue eyes.

_ The white goddess _ , he thought.  _ Rains fire from above. Spirits, I really am an idiot. It’s a  _ dragon _. _

He had no clue what to do now. He had no strength left to fight a  _ dragon _ .

“Why does fire come out of your hands and not your mouth?”

Merlin had to check around several times to see if there was anyone else there before turning back to the white dragon. “What?” he asked, uncomprehendingly. Surely not . . .

The dragon cocked its head. “Why does fire come out of your hands and not your mouth?” it repeated. Merlin gaped at it.

“Uh . . . I can’t breath fire,” he stammered, then reconsidered. “Well, not normally anyway. I’m not a dragon.”

“You’re not?” it asked. Its voice was light and smooth, like a girl’s. “Strange. You  _ look _ like one of those humans, but I’ve never seen a human that had fire in them like I do, only humans that could shake the earth. Are you human?”

“Yes, I’m a firebender. That means that I, uh, that I have fire in me. Some humans do, but since you live in the Earth Kingdom I’m not surprised you haven’t ever met a firebender before.” He was chatting with a  _ dragon _ . He pinched himself.

“Firebender.” The dragon tasted the words in its---her?---mouth. “Am I firebender too? Kilgharrah said we were dragons.”

_ Kilgharrah? There are more of them? _ “Yeah! Dragons are firebenders too. In fact, dragons first taught the humans how to firebend, like how badgermoles taught the people of the Earth Kingdom how to earthbend. I’ve never met a dragon before, because I thought Uther killed all your kind off! How many of you are there?”

Now that the dragon seemed more interested in learning about firebenders than eating him, Merlin chanced sitting up into a more comfortable position as the dragon answered. “Just me and Kilgharrah. He did say that there weren’t many of us left, and that we had to keep hidden because there were evil men who wanted to hurt us. You’re not one of them, are you?” It looked at Merlin fiercely.

“No, no! I have no desire to hurt any dragons,” he assured her, heartbeat speeding up again. It still had  _ quite _ a bit of blood around its mouth.

“Well, in that case, maybe I should take you to see Kilgharrah,” it mused, tongue licking up some of the red staining its white scales. “He’ll be happy to see another firebender, even if it is a human.”

Without ado, the dragon turned and bounced away through the trees, perhaps expecting Merlin to follow. Merlin gulped. He was going to see  _ another _ dragon?

He turned to look behind him towards where he thought the bandit camp was, to where he had  _ felt _ the camp was. His friends would be looking for him and Odin. Perhaps they thought he was dead and the bandit chief had escaped. They had lost so much time already: he couldn’t really afford to go gallivanting into the woods after a possibly bloodthirsty monster, especially at night.

The dragon popped back into his sight. “I lost you! Aren’t you coming?”

_ How many people can say they’ve met a dragon? _ Merlin thought.  _ Forget Arthur, I’m going. _

* * *

Just as the elders of the Disir had said, the “white goddess” lived in the old gold mine. The dragon gave a huff as Merlin conjured a flame to see in the darkness, then led him down into the winding passages.

“Slow down! I can’t move as fast as you can!” He groaned a little at the pain his shoulder. It had stopped bleeding, but in such a dank, musty place it was sure to get infected.

“You humans are so slow!” the dragon complained.

“So, you say this other dragon is named Kilgharrah?” he asked, choosing to ignore this slight on his species. “Do you have a name? Mine’s Merlin, by the way.”

“Aithusa,” it responded. “Kilgharrah named me. I was hatched in these very tunnels.”

“How long ago?”

It somehow shrugged, a movement that went from its shoulder all the way to the tips of its wings. “Many moons ago. Kilgharrah hasn’t taught me much about what you humans call ‘time.’”

“So, Kilgharrah taught you to speak English?” Merlin had had no idea dragons even talked, let alone spoke the same language humans did.

“Whatever you call it,” the dragon responded dismissively. “Kilgharrah said that we must know the language of our enemies. Of course, he can’t have meant you, because you’re like us. Probably he meant whoever killed off the dragons.”

Merlin gulped a little, thinking of Arthur; that of course set the anger flickering in his heart again, so he shook these thoughts away as Aithusa led him from the tunnels into a much bigger area, one barely illuminated by Merlin’s small flame.

“Kilgharrah!” Aithusa’s voice boomed and echoed in the chamber. “I brought a visitor! A firebender, like us!”

A rush of wind swept Merlin’s hair and pushed his flame around. He swore when the guttering flame burned his hand; instinctively, he put it out, plunging himself into darkness.

Something huge landed on the ground not far away, and he froze, some part of him wondering if he even wanted to see what it was. Curiosity won out, of course, and he conjured another flame.

The other dragon was much closer and  _ much bigger _ than he had expected, and Merlin leapt backwards with a yelp, only just preventing himself from getting burned  _ again _ . Aithusa was rubbing itself on the larger dragon’s golden scales like an excited kitten reunited with its mother, but Kilgharrah did not move his flame-colored eyes from Merlin’s. Merlin could instantly see that this dragon was not only bigger than Aithusa, but much older, judging by the scars, chipped but still strong-looking scales, not to mention the wise, haunted expression in his huge eyes.

“It has been many years since I have seen a human,” Kilgharrah murmured, his croaky voice making Merlin jump yet again. “Since I can’t leave this cave without someone trying to kill me.”

There was definitely a note of bitterness in his voice; Merlin stiffened like Kilgharrah had accused him of something. “Well, you are quite large, and scary-looking,” he said, then wanted to smack himself for being rude to such a huge, toothy creature. “Humans do dumb things sometimes. Aithusa’s small. I wouldn’t have seen her if I hadn’t been climbing trees.”

“She is small for a dragon, but she’ll grow,” Kilgharrah responded wearily. “Everyday she wishes to roam further and further afield. I can’t keep her safe forever. For all our sakes, I hope you are the one I have been waiting for all these years.”

“You’ve been waiting for someone?” Merlin asked, taking a curious step forward. “A friend?”

“No,” the old dragon answered. “I am waiting for the Avatar to come.”

Merlin’s heart thudded ever louder in his chest; he was sure Kilgharrah could hear it. “I’m a firebender,” he said numbly. “The Avatar is an Air Nomad.” First Lancelot, now some random dragon in a cave? What was going on?

“I think you know that’s not true,” Kilgharrah replied, his hot breath blowing across Merlin’s face. Despite the warmth, Merlin shivered. “I may have been living in this cave to escape Uther’s purge, but I knew this day would come. A day when all four nations would be threatened, a day when the Avatar would find his way into my cave and hear what I know.”

“What do you know?” Merlin asked without thinking. He felt strange, like how he had felt out in the woods with Odin: like time had slowed, like all of his senses were acting on overdrive, flooding him with information, like the whole world had held its breath for this moment.

“You and the Firelord are destined to bring peace to the four nations,” Kilgharrah revealed. “But in order for that to happen, you  _ must _ accept your destiny as the Avatar.”

Merlin’s stomach lurched. “But I’m  _ not _ the Avatar,” he protested, and Kilgharrah actually chuckled. “And what do you mean, the Firelord? Morgana doesn’t want to bring peace to the four nations, she wants to rule them!”

Kilgharrah growled. “Your role as the Avatar is as a bridge between the four nations! You are a servant with no master, a link---if the Firelord does not understand her role, you must  _ teach _ her! Only the two of you working together can achieve the peace this world desperately needs.”

Thoughts that Merlin had buried deep, thoughts about Morgana redeemed, friendly, trusting, rose to the forefront of his mind. He turned away, struggling to control his breathing. He heard both Kilgharrah and Aithusa hiss from behind him, but he did not bother worrying about rudeness right now.

“Merlin, you’re hurt!” Aithusa’s young voice echoed through the chamber.

He had forgotten about the wound, but the pain returned full-force as he refocused on it. “Oh, that,” he muttered awkwardly. “Doesn’t matter right now.”

“It does!” she insisted. He heard her scamper forward, and before he knew it she had almost knocked him over by placing her front claws on his shoulder and back. “Hold still: I can help.”

Her hot breath seared the wound, and he drew in a deep breath and clenched his fists, struggling to stay upright against the pain and her weight. Within a second, though, the pain had gone and she dropped back to all fours. Unbelieving, Merlin reached back to touch his shoulder. The skin, though still rough with dried blood, was unbroken. There wasn’t even a bruise.

He turned again to smile at Aithusa. “Thanks, that’s a lot better!”

“Are you going to be staying with us now?” the little dragon asked. “Please tell me you’ll stay!”

Merlin grimaced. Aithusa really must be lonely in this cave with only old, mysterious Kilgharrah for company. “I wish I could, but I can’t stay. I’ve got a war to fight.”

“A war you cannot win if you do not accept your role in it,” Kilgharrah rumbled ominously. “None of us make our destinies, young man, and none of us can escape them.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Alright, let’s say, just for a moment, that you’re right and I’m the Avatar. How can Morgana be the Firelord you’re looking for? She’s---” He stopped. Morgana was many, many things. She was hard to distill into one word. “She’s being stubborn right now! She hasn’t listened to me in the past, and I don’t think she’s going to start now. And if it’s not Morgana, the other option is Arthur, who refuses to be the Firelord! He doesn’t want the throne! If you’re wrong about them, maybe you’re wrong about me too.”

“I’m not.”

“How can you be so sure?” Merlin demanded, his gesturing arms casting strange shadows on the cave walls. “Arthur has refused to accept his destiny.”

“I am not all-knowing, boy,” Kilgharrah snapped, a little curl of flame coming from his mouth. “I only know what I have been taught in ages past. I don’t know the story of Morgana, or Arthur, but that does not matter. Perhaps you should ask yourself closely, young firebender, why Morgana wants to conquer the four nations? Why does Arthur refuse to be the Firelord? Even more important: why are you so against being the Avatar? The burden you will bear will be a heavy one, but you will be a symbol of hope, peace, and balance. Master of the four elements, servant to the four nations. You could change the world. You could change everything. You could stop this war from ever happening! Why are you tossing this chance aside?”

Merlin said nothing. He turned his face away so that Kilgharrah and Aithusa could not see the tears glittering in his eyes.  _ A servant with no master _ , he thought,.

The old dragon sighed. “I think I hear your friends above. They are worried about you. Aithusa can take you back. You would do well not to reveal that you met us, Merlin, even to your closest allies. Our species is too little and fragile to be revealed to the world now.”

Merlin nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Aithusa was quiet even as she led him back towards the tunnels.

“And, young firebender?”

Merlin turned back towards Kilgharrah.

“Don’t forget what I said. I pray we will meet again, in a more peaceful world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, we learn what happens with the bandits, Arthur and Merlin continuously misunderstand each other, and someone coins the phrase 'Round Table Players.' Stay tuned!


	17. The Round Table Players

No one wanted to get up before noon the next day. Mithian did not even want to think about what time they had finally tramped into the village, locked the bandits away, and fallen into their beds, but she was sure none of them had gotten nearly enough sleep when George came with a message from the village elders.

“My ladies would see justice served,” George told a yawning Leon solemnly, looking much more awake and put-together than anyone who had lavabent half a clearing just the night before had any right to. “They are calling a meeting to discuss what should happen with the bandits.”

Mithian’s arm was still hurting abominably where she had fallen on the lava, but she got up with the rest of them. Merlin checked the bandages for her before they set out. No one woke the healer; he had been up all that night with Elena, making sure she survived. At some point Lancelot had relieved him and gone to sit with her and Elyan. As Merlin muttered and fretted over the burn on her arm, Mithian watched Arthur and Gwen checking on the two patients. Elyan had finally woken up under the healer’s ministrations, but he could only smile and whisper weakly at Gwen as she clasped his hand. Arthur was talking quietly with Lancelot, both men looking at Elena’s pale face in concern.

Merlin noticed where Mithian was looking. His face, normally expressive and open, was closed-off and unreadable as he looked towards the little group huddled around Elena and Elyan. He had stumbled out of the woods, bloody and exhausted, just when Mithian had begun to despair of finding him. His vague explanation about Odin’s demise had been mostly lost in his distress over Elena’s injury.

Mithian laid a hand on his arm. “They’ll get better,” she consoled him. He gave her a confused look, and nodded quickly.

When Merlin had secured the bandages, the two of them went to join Arthur, Gwen, and Lancelot.

“How are they doing?” Mithian asked softly. The stump of Elena’s arm was bandaged heavily; even after hours of helping carry her through the woods back to the village, Mithian still felt a dark pit in her stomach at the sight of the chopped limb.

Lancelot’s face was drawn and tired. She wondered if he had slept at all. “Elyan is much better, and Elena’s stable. The healer said the next few days are vital. If she gets any kind of infection, that could be it.” He spoke slowly as if each word carried physical pain. Gwen watched him with compassionate eyes. Arthur did not look away from Elena; Mithian could imagine what he was thinking, considering that Elena had been hurt protecting him. Gwen got up from where she was sitting on Elyan’s cot and took her place by the prince’s side.

“The village doesn’t have many medical supplies, even herbs from the woods,” Gwen added. “We only have basics. We need to get her to somewhere with better supplies.”

“Where can we go for that?” Mithian asked, a map of the Earth Kingdom rolling out in her head. There was not much up here in the northwest.

“Western Air Temple,” Lancelot and Arthur answered at the same time. The airbender sighed. “That’s the closest place. But the healer also said it’s not safe to move her for a day or two at least, so we can’t leave yet.”

Mithian considered this. Merlin was biting his lip as he watched her. “We could send someone ahead,” the princess suggested. “Warn them. Prepare them.”

“Who would go?” Gwen asked, sending Arthur a worried look.

Lancelot was clutching Elena’s hand. He said nothing, but his expression told Mithian he knew  _ exactly _ who was the best choice to go.

Arthur’s brow was furrowed. “We . . . don’t have to decide this now,” he said, but Mithian cut him off.

“I actually wanted to send Leon back to report to my mother.” They all looked her with surprise. “I mean, if we’re already heading to the Air Temple in a few days, that will be maybe a week before the Avatar could be our ally. She’s going to want to know so she can prepare---so she can prepare the Earth Kingdom army.”

Merlin was nodding. “That’s a good idea,” he commented.

“Very good,” Arthur agreed. “So we send Leon back to the Ba Sing Se and . . .” He sighed and took the plunge. “Lancelot can go to the Air Temple. You know people there; they trust you.”

Lancelot nodded slowly. “Someone’s got to be here with Elena when she wakes up,” he said firmly. “She might not even remember what happened.”

Merlin put his hand on Lancelot’s shoulder and said, “We’ll be there for her.” Mithian thought he looked worried, but he said nothing else.

* * *

The Disir elders called them to meet in a wide, open space lined with fallen logs not far from the docks. Mithian was surprised to see only the three elders and George---no other villagers to be seen.

Arthur thought this strange as well. “Where is everyone?” he questioned the elders after he had greeted them with a kisses on their hands.

“We are the elders,” Niede countered. “The village trusts our judgement.”

“You are ones who defended us,” Aterloppe interjected. “You will get a say in the decision.”

Arthur shrugged. They seated themselves on the logs: Gwaine by the elders, Percival at his side; Merlin, then Freya and Cedric, with Leon, Mithian, and Arthur ranging around the circle to George again. 

“This council has been called to discuss the fate of those bandits who have harassed and tormented our village for some weeks now,” one of the elders droned. “We give thanks to Princess Mithian and her cohort for ridding us of their evil.”

Mithian sat up straight, then shot George an accusing look. He had the audacity to look back with a slightly raised eyebrow.  _ Thundering badgermoles, _ she thought as Arthur rolled his eyes to her right,  _ at this point,  _ everyone’s _ going to know who we are _ ! How had George even found out?

The elders had not noticed this silent exchange. “We must pass judgement on them.”

“We all know how much you love passing judgement,” Gwaine joked, somehow not flinching as the three women turned and looked at him as one.

“I say we execute them,” Cedric said promptly. “They kidnapped, murdered, and enslaved us. It’s the only just sentence.”

“Or Leon could take them with him to Ba Sing Se,” Merlin countered.

“I can’t handle all of them by myself,” the Dai Li agent pointed out. “Even if, perhaps, Tristan and Isolde came with me. There are at least fifteen bandits left, yes?”

“Yes,” Gwaine mused. “In my travels, I’ve come across a lot of different justice systems. Among the Air Nomads, if a wrong was done in one of their temples, the perpetrator would have to provide recompense for that wrong.”

“I like that idea,” Gwen said. “Still just, but it involves a chance for the bandits to do something good.” Mithian privately agreed; what was the point in more senseless violence? Let the bandits pay for what they did constructively!

“How could the bandits do that, though?” Percival asked. “Go and mine in the gold mine for the villagers?”

Merlin sat up suddenly. “No!” They all looked at him. “I mean, that mine’s been abandoned for so many years. Perhaps we should just let them go?”

“Let them go?” Arthur objected. “So that they can do this someone else?” Merlin shot him an annoyed look.

“I  _ do _ believe in second chances,” the firebender said quietly. “Within reason, of course.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes, but Merlin had already continued as if there had not been verbal arrows launched. “Percival’s right, what would the villagers do with the bandits?”

“Probably kill them,” George intoned. “Like they deserve.” Merlin snorted involuntarily.

Arthur cleared his throat loudly, his chin still raised proudly from Merlin’s comment. Everyone looked at him.

The prince raised an eyebrow. “These are all lovely suggestions, but I think we’re forgetting something,” he said pointedly.

A pause. “What?”

He gestured towards Mithian and Disir elders. “We have yet to hear from the people who actually have the most authority in what happens with the bandits. Shouldn’t Princess Mithian and the elders have the final say on what happens?”

The elders said nothing, but turned towards the Earth Princess. Mithian blinked owlishly, feeling the weight of all the eyes on her. “Oh . . . I suppose so---But I don’t have much experience with trials; I only sat and watched when my mother took complaints.”

Arthur pursed his lips at this, but all he said was, “You’re in authority here; I, for one, will respect whatever judgement you decide on.” Leon and Gwen nodded fervently to second his remarks. Gwaine was watching Arthur and Mithian like he had never quite seen the like of them before.

Mithian bit her lip, her fingers lacing together and clenching. “I don’t want to execute them,” she said after a short pause. “Their leaders are dead, the prisoners have been released without harm---I’d rather see them rehabilitated than killed.”

“They should be taken back to Ba Sing Se for the queen to deal with,” Percival suggested, but Mithian shook her head, becoming more confident.

“No, Leon’s right. Even if Tristan and Isolde went with him, there’s no guarantee they would be able to contain all those prisoners. I like Gwaine’s suggestion better: have them make reparations to the villagers. George and the other benders can keep them in line, as well as the plantbenders if they are willing to stay. We’ll have to work out any kinks, but I say the bandits should be kept here to work in the village for a year and a day to make up for what they did.”

There was much nodding and smiling. Even the Disir elders looked somewhat happy---or just less grim. “We will respect this fair judgement, Your Highness.”

* * *

After the hearing was over, Merlin snuck away into the woods.

It had been a long, tiring night. What with the fight, his encounter with Aithusa and Kilgharrah, and the hike back down the mountain, he had fallen into his bunk on the ship almost immediately after all the bandits were safely locked away. Luckily, the others had also been tired enough to accept his non-explanation of how Odin had died. He had dozed off listening to Freya’s deep breathing, and his sleep had been mostly dreamless, only punctuated by fleeting visions of his village and family in Omashu. When he woke up, though, all he could remember was his conversation with Kilgharrah. He wanted to tell Lancelot about what had happened---tell  _ somebody _ \---but the airbender was so focused on Elena and preparing to leave for the Western Air Temple that he did not have time for venting.

_ Avatar? _ He thought to himself as he struggled through the brush further into the woods.  _ Is everyone going crazy? Kilgharrah didn’t even know who Morgana was! _

If he was honest, that part of the conversation---about the Firelord---had most confused him. If this Firelord  _ was _ Morgana, how was he ever going to help calm her down? He had tried before---he and Morgana had been friends, and at one point he had even thought they might become something more---but it was like he had told Arthur on their way to the Northern Water Tribe: Morgana had been so damaged by Uther and his Purge, she no longer trusted anyone. She may have opened up slightly to Merlin, confided in him, but she had always kept a part of herself back.

He shook his head as he stumbled through the trees, the warm air and breezes blowing the smell of sap and herbs into his nose. He had given up on the idea of him and Morgana a long time ago. It would not do to reopen that can of worms.

But Arthur? He could be just as infuriating as his half-sister was. Merlin had had hope, he thought as he stomped unnecessarily hard on the ground, that Arthur could be reasoned with, that he would live up to his potential and accept his role as Fire Prince, but obviously not! He seemed content to help merely a little, sitting back and letting the Fire Nation fall into anarchy and disrepair when Morgana was---

He stopped in the middle of a clearing. The ground was clear of brush, dotted only here and there with leaves and branches. An ideal place, he supposed, to ignore his confusion about Arthur and Morgana and focus on something perhaps even  _ more _ impossible.

Earthbending.

He closed his eyes for a second and breathed out. He was crazy for even considering this.

One nervous glance around told Merlin that he was alone, so he carefully knelt on the ground, pressing his hands flat to the earth. He remembered the feeling of the night before, of his senses expanding and enveloping everything around him. It had been a feeling he had never experienced before, and he did not know how to experience it again. His fingers brushed through the earth, memorizing the feeling and scent of dust. Neither his step-father nor Will were benders, so he wasn’t sure exactly how to begin.

Merlin felt stupid, but he closed his eyes and pushed his palms in the earth, straining to feel, to sense, anything. He gathered rocks and fistfuls of dirt in his hands, willing it to move, to change, to bend. Nothing happened.

He sighed. This could mean nothing, of course, but it could also mean everything. He clenched his dirt-filled fist and smacked it against the ground.

The ground trembled.

Merlin froze.

He raised his hand slowly . . . then brought it crashing back down.

Again, there was a slight rumble, and the ground shook.

He couldn’t breathe.  _ This was really happening _ .

_ Third time’s a pattern _ , he thought, and brought his hand down again.

An earsplitting CRASH sounded from his left. He jerked back, panting at the intense noise, then turned to see where it had come from. 

Mithian and George were in the trees to his left; they had not seen him and he had not heard them. Mithian started laughing, but George seemed to be explaining something to her earnestly, his hands gesturing calming in front of him, his face politely confused. There was a small cloud of dust around them; they had been earthbending.

Merlin deflated a little.  _ Oh _ , he thought.

“Wonder what they’re up to.”

Merlin jumped again, his breathing picking up. Gwaine had come sauntering through the trees, hand on his sword hilt, dark hair perfectly styled.

“Er, I don’t know,” Merlin confessed. “Practicing?”

Gwaine shrugged and looked down at him. “Speaking of, what are  _ you _ doing?” He was eyeing Merlin’s strange position with a smirk.

Merlin winced, looked down at the pile of dirt in his hand. It seemed so stupid now. “Uh, well, you know . . . there are . . . herbs down here. My mother and Gaius taught me a lot about herbs and medicine, so I’ve just been looking around for anything that might help Elena or Elyan.”

Gwaine nods, his face more serious, then looks over at Mithian again. “ _ She _ seems fine,” he commented. “She and George look to be getting on great!”

Merlin turned his head away to hide his smile. “Hmm, perhaps,” he said, then shot the Tribesman a curious glance. “Jealous?”

Gwaine grinned. “Me? Nah, mate. I don’t get jealous; others get jealous of me! They’re probably flirting over there, him telling her little ‘dirty’ jokes . . .”

The firebender laughed. “Oh Gwaine, please tell me you’re coming with us!”

Gwaine shrugged, smirking. “Might do, might not.” He sobered a little. “You lived in the Fire Nation. You knew Morgause?”

Merlin thought of the ice-cold bloodbender. “Yeah, I knew her. She, Morgana, and Nimueh were good friends.”

“Nimueh?” Gwaine asked sharply.

“She was my firebending master,” Merlin told him. “Her and Gaius, anyway.”

Gwaine nodded slowly. “Morgause practiced her bloodbending on me a lot,” he mused. “That’s where I learned to throw it off.”

“That’s why Daegal had no effect on you.”

“Yeah. When bending was banned in the Fire Nation, Nimueh actually came to the Southern Water Tribe. We were just kids; she recognized my sister’s talent for waterbending, put ideas into her head. Nimueh had friends from I don’t even know where . . . they taught Morgause bloodbending.”

“So it really was Uther’s doing that she turned to bloodbending,” Merlin said, then shook his head in disgust. “Will that man’s influence ever end?” He turned away, thinking of Arthur and Morgana. Was there any hope for the Fire Nation at  _ all? _

Gwaine shook his head and laughed softly. “It does no good to cry over the past, as they say!” He held out a hand. “Come on, let’s go to the tavern!”

Merlin brushed the dirt away and took the hand, but said, “Little early for that still, isn’t it?” as Gwaine hoisted him up.

“ _ Now _ is always a good time for the tavern, my friend,” Gwaine insisted. “Besides, I happen to know that a certain pretty waterbender is in there right now, probably thinking about a certain handsome firebender . . .”

Merlin blushed and rolled his eyes, but he followed Gwaine out of the woods, away from any thoughts of earthbending.

* * *

Freya was, in fact, in the tavern, sitting with Arthur in a corner. The two were talking seriously, oblivious to the whispers and admiring looks that they were receiving from the villagers. The barmaid saw Merlin and Gwaine and gave them a huge wave, the opposite of her frosty behavior from before. Merlin waved back half-heartedly; the last thing he wanted to do was talk with Arthur right now, especially after losing his temper the day before. 

Gwaine, despite having his own problems with the prince, strutted over to Arthur and Freya with a smile on his face. Merlin followed reluctantly.

Freya looked up and smiled widely, scooting over on the bench to make room for him and Gwaine. “Merlin! Good to see you up and about,” she said softly, and he could not help but smile back. Arthur was watching him carefully, measuring, like he was trying to decide if Merlin was still angry with him.  _ The answer’s yes, by the way, _ Merlin snarked in his head. Freya put her arm through his, grinning. “Where’d you go off to after the trial?” she asked.

The thought of explaining his embarrassing attempt at earthbending was too much, so he just grinned cheekily and said, “Went to wander the lovely woods, but I was told something even lovelier was in the tavern.” Freya tried to give him a stern look, but she was blushing.

“We thought we’d come join you two  _ beautiful _ princesses,” Gwaine said, grinning at Arthur’s glare. The barmaid bustled over before Arthur could formulate a suitably cutting remark.

“What can I get you boys today?” she asked, beaming down at Merlin.

“Oh, just the usual, Mary!” Gwaine replied blithely. She smiled even wider.

“You lot are going to have to tell us about how you routed those bandits! Coming in here like that, all mysterious and bold---we didn’t know what to think! Where do all you come from anyway? What do you do?”

Merlin’s only really thought before he spoke was  _ We can’t tell her the truth. Obviously. _ So, he said: “We’re, uh, we’re a traveling theater group.”

He tried not to flinch as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

Arthur closed his eyes slowly, but he did not try and correct Merlin as the barmaid’s eyes shone brightly. The damage was already done.

“Really?” she cried. “How exciting! What do they call you then?”

The group looked at Merlin. He faltered and said, “Uh, the, er, the Round Table Players. You know, like the Ember Island Players? But better, of course, they botch the  _ Ballad of Sir Dinadan _ every year---”

Freya elbowed him and he stopped talking.

Arthur nodded, a horribly fake smile plastered on his face. “Yes, the Round Table Players. That’s . . . us.”

The barmaid clasped Merlin’s shoulder in an overly familiar way; Freya’s eyes narrowed. “You  _ must _ put on a performance for us! Since your friends have to stay and heal for a few days, why not give us a little entertainment? Show us your tricks!” She winked.

“That sounds like a brilliant idea!” Arthur threw in, his faux smile turning wicked. “Merlin is our  _ star  _ performer. He just  _ loves _ to act in front of people, don’t you,  _ Mer _ lin?”

Merlin gulped, his whole face red. Gwaine had to bury his face in his arms so the barmaid would not see his laughter. “Yes, I would love to,” the firebender muttered.

The barmaid beamed, squeezing his shoulder, then turned away to help another customer. Merlin’s face melted into horror while Arthur glared at him.

“A  _ traveling theater group _ , Merlin?  _ Really _ ?? You could have said anything, and you chose that?”

Merlin bristled at the prince’s tone. “Well, I couldn’t very well tell her we were off to destroy the Firelord, could I? I had to think on my feet!” Gwaine was hiccuping now, with Freya patting his back anxiously.

“Well, you tripped  _ over _ your feet as usual, Merlin,” Arthur retorted. “You could have told her we were mercenaries, I doubt she would have cared!”

“Perhaps you should have answered then,” the firebender snapped. “We all know you would  _ never _ do or say something you regretted!”

Arthur blinked and clenched his jaw at this. He stood abruptly and flipped a coin on the table. “Thanks for the sword, Freya,” he said tightly, and walked out, back straight and head held high.

Merlin stared down at the table, anger and shame warring closely within him.  _ Maybe Kilgharrah was right _ , he thought.  _ Maybe Morgana  _ is  _ my best chance at peace in the Fire Nation _ . He was so tired of fighting for a peace that never seemed to come.

Gwaine looked at Freya. “Sword?”

She was watching Merlin closely, but she answered, “He came to give Excalibur back to me, and I told him he’d better keep it. It’s done a lot better in his hands than in mine.”


	18. The Fears of Arthur Pendragon

The Fire Prince did not know where he was headed when he left the tavern; he just knew he had to get away. Did Merlin really think he understood Arthur’s motivations? If so, he was more of an idiot than Arthur had thought.

His angry stride took him into the woods again, into the cool breeze and rustling leaves. The leaves and branches were swaying lazily in the wind, a green light filtering down to the forest floor from the lowering sun. He breathed in the brown smell that permeated all around him. It calmed him a little, and he drew Excalibur, testing the weight in his hands, feeling the balance, admiring the beauty and strength of it.

There was no dummy to practice with like he had used in the Fire Nation, but Arthur still settled into a stance. If this did not calm him, what could?

It had been years since he had properly practiced with a sword. In the Earth Kingdom, weapons like that were too noticeable, so he had mostly used a staff---when he practiced at all. He had never dared touch Elyan’s creations in the smithy for fear of drawing attention to himself. As Arthur ran through all the forms he remembered from his Fire Nation training, he could feel his tension ebbing. Swordplay was something he was good at, and it helped him calm down. Sometimes.

Arthur heard a twig crack from behind him and whirled around. Gwen was standing there, a sword in her hand. She raised it sheepishly.

“You want to spar?” she asked. “I’m not as good as you, but I have some training. You can teach me new tricks.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, some of the tension in his chest lifting just from the sight of her. “Alright,” he agreed.

“That sword really is beautiful,” Gwen commented as they came closer together. “In all my years as a blacksmith, I’ve never seen the like of it. Avatar Sigan was a  _ fantastic _ metalbender.”

“It hasn’t blunted a bit, even with the beating it had last night,” he agreed as he settled into a ready stance. “Freya told me a few stories about her great-grandfather. He was power-hungry. A controversial Avatar.”

“Obsessed with living forever,” Gwen agreed, bringing her sword up. Her form was respectable, for someone with little experience. “Even though as the Avatar, his spirit would continue living on forever anyway.”

“I never knew much about the Avatar growing up,” Arthur admitted. “Except the few stories Gaius told me inbetween. Funny little things like how the Avatar’s eyes will turn white sometimes, or how he can assume the form of a previous Avatar.”

Gwen cocked her head. “Really?”

Arthur nodded. “I hope when we get the the Air Temple, the Avatar will be willing to share more with me. That is, if---”

He stopped and did not continue. Gwen took a chance and swung first; for a moment, all Arthur had to think about was the placement of his feet and blocking her swings.

“Come on, Arthur, you’re not even trying!” Gwen cried, and he grinned.

“I’ll letting you settle into it,” he said, then shifted to the offensive. Gwen gritted her teeth, holding her ground--- _ A true earthbender, _ Arthur thought.  _ Solid, steady, loyal. _

“What did you mean just now,” Gwen wanted to know, a gleam of sweat breaking out on her brow, “when you said, ‘if’? If what?”

Arthur did not answer immediately. “I just meant, if the Avatar decides to help us. He might not.”

They were locked together; Arthur’s height, bigger build, and strength were pushing Gwen back. She twisted, but he had expected that: instead of falling forward he danced to the side and pulled his blade up again. “I thought you were confident about the Avatar,” Gwen commented, her eyebrows drawn together as she righted her stance.

“It doesn’t really have anything to do with confidence,” he said. “Just looking at all possible angles. Anything could happen.”

She nodded slowly. This time, she was waiting for him to come to her, and he obliged. As they clashed, she panted out, “A lot  _ has _ happened.”

Arthur did not answer, just focused on where to put the sword to block her.

She tried again. “You’ve been upset.” Arthur’s lips tightened.

“We’ve had an upsetting time,” he pointed out. She gave him a look over her blade, like  _ Stop being an idiot and tell me what you’re thinking, Arthur. _ Only she probably would have said it nicely.

“Arthur, we’re friends,” she pressed, pushing him both literally and figuratively as they sparred. “You always tell me everything---at least,” she amended, “I always felt that you could.”

He thought about the past few days, the distance between them, and said, “I’ve always told you a lot more than I should have if I had wanted to keep you safe.”

“We’re beyond safe, now,” Gwen reminded him. “What happened?”

“Have you ever noticed how annoying Gwaine is? He drives me up the wall. Very upsetting.”

Gwen laughed, but only for a moment. “What about Merlin?”

He said nothing, just moved to block a swipe at his legs.

“Why are you angry with him?” She gave a wry smile. “I’m gone for one day and our entire company falls apart!”

Arthur shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter. It’s hurting you, and it’s hurting him. Therefore, it hurts me too.”

Trust her to kick him where it hurt. “It’s stupid. Merlin just . . . he got angry at me for something I said. He misunderstood.”

“A misunderstanding?” Gwen moved back and lowered her sword, and Arthur clenched his teeth. She was not going to let this go. “Arthur . . . tell me really, why are you angry at Merlin?”

“I’m not angry at Merlin!” he burst out. She pulled back a little.

“Then who are you angry at?” she said softly. “Yourself?”

Arthur clenched his jaw and backed away. He did not trust himself in this angry state to stand so close to her. She waited patiently, compassion written on every surface of her face.

Arthur spoke haltingly. “I can’t be who Merlin wants me to be. I can’t take up the mantle of Fire Prince---not anymore. He had hope for me. He had faith  _ in _ me, and I let him down. I can’t be the Firelord that he wants, Gwen. I can’t live up to those hopes, and he knows it.”

Arthur clenched his fingers around Excalibur’s hilt, his head bowed. “The fact is, no one in the Fire Nation is going to accept me as their Firelord,” he muttered, blinking hard. “After what my father did, after what Morgana has done, they’re not going to want another Pendragon. Honestly,  _ Gwaine _ might as well be the Firelord.”

“But Merlin doesn’t  _ want _ Gwaine, Arthur,” Gwen insisted. “He doesn’t want Morgana, or Annis or any other. He wants  _ you _ as the Firelord. And frankly, he’s right.”

He was already shaking his head. “You don’t understand, Gwen,” he said. “It’s  _ not _ about me shirking duty or anything; it’s about the Fire Nation not wanting  _ me _ .”

“I don’t think so,” she mused, her dark eyes gleaming in the sunshine. “I’ve known you for quite a few years now, Arthur, and I know all that guilt you carry around with you. You’re not angry at Merlin; you’re angry at yourself for disappointing Merlin. You’re not afraid the Fire Nation will reject you; you’re afraid you’ll turn out just like your father and Morgana. You’re afraid you’ll disappoint them, too. That’s why you won’t accept it, isn’t it?”

Gwen dug her toe thoughtfully into the ground. “For all of us, the Avatar  _ is _ hope. The hope of a future, of security, of power, the hope of winning this war. But you don’t just hope in the Avatar, do you? You’ve placed your hope in Merlin, the firebender, because  _ he _ placed his hope in  _ you _ first.” She gave him a sad smile. “And if Merlin doesn’t believe in you, if even he’s given up, what hope is there for you? In the end, whether we win or not, you’ll still be the Fire Prince who failed.”

Arthur turned away, unable to speak. Gwen had always been perceptive, but this---this was  _ uncomfortably _ perceptive.

She was not done yet. Firmly, Gwen continued on. “You’ve been hiding all these years, living that safe, quiet existence as a chimneysweep, but you can’t go back to that now, Arthur! You have a duty to the people of the Fire Nation. Whether they accept you or not, whether they want you to be the Firelord, you at least owe it to them to try. You owe it to them to  _ fight _ . That’s the Arthur I know, someone who fights for the people he loves. A man who learned to overcome his prejudices and misconceptions. That’s---that’s the man I fell in love with.”

Arthur stared at her; he was not quite sure what his face looked like, after hearing an impassioned speech like that. She dropped her eyes after a second, cheeks coloring with embarrassment at her outburst.

Slowly, carefully, he reached out and took her hand. Gwen did not look at him, but she squeezed his fingers. They had held hands before, but Arthur had always been so careful about getting close to anyone in the Earth Kingdom . . . it was an unusually intimate gesture for him.

“You’re . . . you’re right, Guinevere.” His voice was barely above a whisper. Gwen raised her eyes again hopefully. “I’ve been thinking too much of myself. I don’t think . . . I can’t make myself believe that the people of the Fire Nation will accept me, but I will try.” She grinned, and reached for his other hand, the one holding Excalibur. His heart warmed at her touch, but he dropped his eyes, hoping she would not see how terrified he felt. Was he really agreeing to this? He knew she  _ was _ right, but did that mean he had a chance?

* * *

Elena didn’t wake up until the night after Lancelot and Leon left. Everyone had been worried about her, but the healer had assured them that it was a healing sleep. Elyan had regained enough strength to get out of his bed for a few hours, but he was snoring away with Percival on watch when Elena’s eyes blinked open.

Arthur had settled down for the night, and most everyone was already sleep, lulled by the shifting of the ship upon the waves, the soft  _ thud _ as the hull brushed the dock. He heard Percival’s soft voice and Elena’s weak reply. After just a few moments he could hear her weeping quietly. He wanted to curl up on himself in shame and guilt. His rash promise to Gwen the previous day came back to him; if he couldn’t even keep Elena safe, if she had gotten hurt trying to protect him, what was the point of trying?

He ran Gwen’s words through his mind again. She was right. She was  _ right _ .  _ Get over yourself, Pendragon _ , he thought firmly.  _ There’s hope for you yet. _

* * *

Arthur’s usual dream was sharper, more vivid, more real than ever. He could not remember seeing so many familiar faces in his other dreams, but he picked out Guinevere, Elyan, Leon, Gwaine, and other people he had met, all waiting for the execution in the Fire Nation courtyard. As always, the crowd parted in silence as the prisoner was brought forward. Arthur saw with a jolt that it was Merlin; his friend’s head was bent forward and his eyes were closed. He seemed to bow under the weight of all the chains.

Arthur looked at Morgana; she seemed, for once, as triumphant as their father, her head held high and her gaze cold. Uther spoke, his voice deep and gravelly as always, with no mercy. “Merlin, you have been tried and found guilty of the offense of bending. There is only one sentence I can pass.”

Merlin was led towards the deep pool on the side, stumbling a little, but pulled upright by the guards on either side. Weights were added, clinking against the cobblestones as they were attached to his feet. Arthur could not see Merlin’s face, but he did not struggle as the guards dragged him forward and threw him down into the water. Arthur’s heart seemed to sink with Merlin’s body.

For a moment, nothing happened, and Arthur waited hopelessly for the dream to end.

The water in the pool was still swirling. Then---with a roar, Merlin burst from the depths, the dark water wrapping around him. The water lifted him up and up, then lowered him back towards solid ground. He sunk lower and lower until his feet---still chained, but missing the weights---touched the ground before the pool. The water uncurled from him and sank back until it was still again.

Merlin’s eyes were still closed. His face was peaceful, as if he was sleeping.

Arthur gaped. He looked wildly at Uther and Morgana, but neither of them seemed fazed by this curious turn of events. Uther simply waved his hand towards the other corner of the courtyard, where Arthur noticed for the first time a set of gallows. He gulped as Merlin was led across the open space, up the wooden stairs, and to the lone noose hanging there.

Arthur forced himself to look as Uther brought his hand down and the floor was released. Merlin did not even struggle. In fact, the rope had not pulled completely tight before a gale swirled around Merlin, buoying his body up so that the rope had no chance to pull taut. The prince could only watch in astonishment as the wind dried Merlin’s dripping hair. 

Merlin’s eyes remained closed.

Once again, Uther simply ordered the rope cut, and next Merlin was dragged to the third corner, where a pyre, already covered in wood, was erected. The guards unchained Merlin’s feet and used the length of chain to bind him to the stake. Torches were fetched.

_ He’s a firebender, _ Arthur thought frantically.  _ They can’t kill him with fire, that’s ridiculous! _

Sure enough, the fire barely had time to grow a couple feet high before it was extinguished. Arthur thought that Uther would, at this point, start looking frustrated, but the Firelord did not. He simply ordered Merlin unchained from the stake and then pointed at the last corner.

The chopping block. Normally the fate of a common non-bending criminal, it only made sense for the last element. An earthbending material for an airbender’s death. Morgana’s lip was curling in triumph, like she was thinking,  _ This time! This time, for sure! _

Arthur was embarrassed to find tears pricking in his eyes. Why did the dream have to drag it out? Obviously, Merlin  _ was _ going to die; that’s just how the dream went! Why was his mind torturing him like this?

Merlin did not open his eyes even as he laid his head on the block, even as the executioner raised the axe, even as the axe came swishing down---

The metal of the axehead melted, molding itself around the top of the handle. The axe was forced upward again before it hit Merlin’s unprotected neck. The executioner lowered it to his side, then everyone in the courtyard turned and looked at Uther and Morgana, as if waiting for instructions.

For the first time, Arthur’s two companions looked dumbfounded.

Merlin stood up slowly, and his chains melted like the axehead, dripping to the ground into pools like quicksilver. He walked slowly and surely towards the balcony, the crowd parting silently. Arthur saw Gwaine smiling as he moved out of the way.

Merlin stopped in the middle of the courtyard, raised his head, and opened his eyes.

His eyes were glowing white. Arthur could hardly breathe. Merlin spoke up to the three on the balcony in a voice that was soft, but somehow Arthur could hear every word.

“You cannot kill hope, Firelord,” Merlin said, and it was impossible to tell whether he was speaking to Uther, Morgana, or Arthur. “Hope will always remain. Your hope will rise, and you will rise with it.”

Arthur saw with a start that he was suddenly alone on the balcony, and he watched in astonishment as Merlin knelt, bowing low to the ground. The whole courtyard followed him, kneeling to Arthur. The Fire Prince saw Uther and Morgana down there too, prostrated on the ground. They were all bowing to  _ him _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm worried that it's a little boring with all the talking, so I would appreciate any constructive criticism you have to offer. Also, I am interested in your thoughts about the dream---I don't do dream sequences often, so I'm interested in what you think it means and whether you liked it. Any comments are welcome!
> 
> If you're wondering when this story will be over . . . I have *around* ten chapters left. Ballpark.
> 
> Are you ready to meet the Avatar next chapter? :D


	19. The Western Air Temple

It was almost a full day later before the healer pronounced Elena stable enough to be ferried to the Western Air Temple. Everyone in their group had been hovering over her and Elyan so badly that the healer had banned everyone but Merlin and Gwen from coming near. “At least you two are useful,” he had been heard to mutter.

Merlin’s slight, village-trained physician skills made him feel entirely use _ less _ in this situation, but he tried to put on a brave face and a smile for his friends.

Everyone was glad to leave. Even with the bandits captured and working in the fields, there was still a gloomy and serious atmosphere lingering in the air. Gwaine  _ claimed  _ that was why he had decided to join them. “This will always be my village, you know?” he told Merlin as they packed up, preparing to leave. “But it’s changed. And I haven’t changed with it. It’s time to move on.”

“What brought you here in the first place?” Merlin asked curiously. “A little village nowhere near your country . . .”

Gwaine smiled mischievously, and, just like the first time they had met, Merlin could not help but grin back. “Honestly, lad, that’s a story for another day. Well, I’ll give you a hint---there’s a beautiful brunette involved. Rather like your own story.” He winked and gestured over Merlin’s shoulder before turning and sauntering away. Merlin turned, flushing to see that Freya was waiting nearby, her dark eyes bright in the morning sunshine, her smile flashing in his direction.

“Don’t make her wait, you idiot,” Gwen muttered in his ear as she passed, shoving him towards the lovely waterbender. Merlin nearly tripped onto his face, but managed to right himself and walked towards her using an imitation of Gwaine’s confident stride---which, if it couldn’t quite match the warrior’s arrogant grace, at least served to disguise Merlin’s nervousness.

He hoped.

Freya grabbed his arm as he stopped next to her. “Come on, let’s get to the top viewing deck before launching!”

They ran together through the ship, giggling madly, while all around them the supplies were stored and ropes were stowed. Most of the ship’s other occupants grinned when they raced past, while Arthur took a moment away from bellowing orders to glare, his shout of “ _ Mer _ -lin!” fading away behind them.

Finally they reached the top deck, which was deserted apart from a waterbender serving as lookout. “We’re here to relieve you,” Merlin panted, clutching at a stitch in his side.

The sun was hot and bright as they set off, Freya and Merlin peering out into the air and over the sea for any kind of approaching ship, Percival and the other waterbenders stretching and preparing themselves for the long hours of bending, Gwen fussing over Mithian’s arm. The villagers had come to see them off, even the elders. George was there, his face as stoic as ever.

Merlin was surprised to see Mithian give him a particularly friendly parting, clasping his hand between her own and smiling kindly. The lavabender  _ appeared _ unmoved, but as final preparations were made, the ropes retrieved, and the ship sailed out, he dashed to the end of the dock to watch them sail away.

As the high-prowed ship slipped out to the ocean again, they heard his parting call to Mithian. “I lava you!”

“Oh, brother,” Mithian breathed, but she was smiling.

* * *

Merlin spent hours on the upper deck, leaning over the railing and straining to catch a glimpse of the tell-tale peaks that meant they were almost to their goal. Sometimes Gwaine or Gwen joined him, or Freya if she was not on “rowing” duty. He, Mithian, and Percival continued their bending training and missed Lancelot. Gwaine teased Mithian relentlessly about George. “Sorry to leave your paramour behind?” he would ask with a twinkle in his eye.

Mithian would roll her eyes. “ _ How _ many times do I have to explain to you, Gwaine? George was just trying to teach me lavabending! Will you give it a rest?”

The two bickered a lot. Surprisingly, other than a few barbed words, the Tribesman seemed to get along with Arthur much better than before. Gwaine’s relationship with Arthur had improved, while Merlin’s had decreased. After the biting words they had exchanged in Disir, Merlin felt awkward even being in the same part of the ship as Arthur. The prince, for one, did not seek him out, but sometimes Merlin caught him glancing in his direction, like he wanted to say something. He never did.

Arthur’s new-found confidence and princely attitude, however, did not change. He and Mithian continued to lead the group. This annoyed Merlin to no end---if Arthur wasn’t going to be the Firelord, what right had he to act like it?

Merlin could not wait for the voyage to end.  Finally, it did. Land came into view on the third day, and by the next sunrise they were entering in Air Nomad territory. The crew crowded around to watch as tall cliffs scrolled back, partially obscured by fog.

“There’s an Air Temple here?” Mithian asked doubtfully. “How are we supposed to get to it?”

“It should be just ahead,” Gwaine told her, grinning as his long hair flapped in the stiff breeze. “Just a little further . . .”

Arthur, who had the sharpest eyes after the airbenders, gasped and pointed. “Look!” he whispered hoarsely.

Something on the cliffside was coming into view. Merlin felt his mouth drop open as he got his first look at the Western Air Temple. Just like the temple in the north, it was built of white stone with green tiled roofs . . . but all the buildings were  _ upside down _ , attached to the underside of the cliffs!

“It’s  _ amazing _ ,” Freya gasped, leaning halfway over the railing to stare at the structures. Merlin grabbed her arm to steady her, and she grinned back at him. “Do you think they got earthbenders to help them build it?” she asked.

He shook his head wordlessly. He had not known that  _ anyone _ could build something that impossible.

Red gliders, with yellow-garbed people attached to them, were appearing out of the mist, circling over their heads. Merlin heard shouts, but could not distinguish words. It soon became clear, however, that they were being directed to a dock at the base of one of the cliffs. There was a group of airbenders waiting for them as they came towards the dock, Lancelot among them. Even before the airship had docked at the temple, he whipped out his glider and hurried out to greet them, landing lightly on the ramp as it opened. He rushed inside the hold, ignoring the greetings that were thrown in his direction, and dropped to his knees beside Elena’s cot. She grinned when she saw him.

“Oh no, who died?” she said. “You look like you’ve got a toothache.”

“This is just my face.” He gripped her shoulder tightly. “I’m so glad to see you, dear friend.”

* * *

Merlin could sense a big difference between their receptions here, and their reception at the Northern Air Temple. Instead of suspicion and fear, many of the airbenders smiled at them and greeted them cheerily. Merlin could only suppose that was Lancelot’s doing, even as his friend followed the stretchers that were bearing Elena and Elyan speedily to the infirmary. He could pick out no steely-eyed head monk, no gruff council member, only friendly eyes and welcoming smiles.

One of the airbenders, a young girl with brown, curly hair, beckoned their group into an adjoining room, and the other airbenders filtered in after them. “Our head monk will join you shortly,” she whispered to Arthur, who nodded curtly, his expression turning serious.

Mithian and Gwaine seemed to have put away their rivalry to whisper about the architecture around them. Gwen was clinging to Arthur’s arm, her mouth wide and appreciative, but Freya and Cedric seemed uncomfortable in this wide-open place.

The airbenders were watching them curiously, eyes bright and smiles wide. Merlin tried to lean casually against a wall but misjudged the distance, stumbling forward to bump against an Air Acolyte, who fell over with a cry, knocking over a delicate pot. The artifact tottered, then crashed to the floor, bits of porcelain scattering in every direction.

“Oh---uh . . .” Merlin glanced around the room. Everyone was staring at him. “S-sorry about that.”

“I was wondering how long it would take you to break something,” came a soft, smooth voice from behind him. “I suppose now I can breathe easy.”

Merlin whipped around. A hunched, white-haired man dressed in a long, red robe stood before him, no smile on his lips but one lighting up his eyes. Merlin grinned.

“Gaius!”

He launched himself at the older man, almost knocking him to the ground. There was much lurching and weaving and chuckling as Merlin hugged him fiercely.

“Now now, Merlin, don’t break  _ me _ ,” Gaius chuckled, sounding half-smothered.

Merlin released him to step back, staring in wonderment.“But---but you were---how did you---?”

Gaius was grinning now. “Alice,” he said simply.

“Of  _ course _ !” Merlin crowed. “I  _ knew  _ you were still in contact with her! You old fox!”

Uncle and nephew were clasping hands, overjoyed to see each other, but Merlin saw the older man’s eye drawn to someone behind him. Merlin knew who it was before he even looked.

“Your Highness,” Gaius said, stepping closer to Arthur, who looked like he had seen a ghost. “It warms my heart to see you alive.”

The Fire Prince suddenly smiled, wider and more freely than Merlin had seen before. “Gaius,” he said, reaching out to clasp his hand. “I should have known that you’d gotten out safely! If Morgana’s warriors had half of your wisdom and cunning, she’d be Empress of the World by now.”

“Well, let’s not put ideas in her head,” Gaius said with a grimace. “I’m just as glad that she’s Firelord only. You came here to gather an army, from what I heard?”

“Very nearly.” Arthur stood straighter, glanced around the room. He looked every inch the Fire Prince at that moment---tall and golden-haired. His voice rang with command, and everyone in the room turned to hear him. “I am Fire Prince Arthur, and I am come to ask the Avatar to stand with me against the tyranny of the Fire Nation!”

A stillness fell over the room. Every eye was fixed and every foot was rooted to the floor. Arthur’s gaze traveled over the gathered crowd of Air Nomads, and every one of them turned their eyes away, looking at the floor or straight ahead at the wall. There was no shame or fear in their faces---merely a species of patience, as if they were flowers waiting for the sun to rise.

_ Or snakes waiting to strike, _ Merlin thought irrelevantly.

“I think you offended them,  _ Fire Prince _ ,” Gwen muttered into Arthur’s ear.

“Who comes into our sacred temple, demanding such a thing?” The crowd shifted and parted, allowing a small party of airbenders to come through. Leading them was a bald, heavyset elderly man carrying a staff, with several other elders following him sedately. Among them strode a younger man, barely more than a boy, with unusually light blue eyes that flitted over the visitors curiously before dropping demurely to the floor.

“This is Alator, the head monk here,” Gaius said softly in Arthur’s ear. Arthur nodded slowly, watching the advance of the monk.

“So this is the lost Fire Prince.” Alator’s eyes narrowed, sweeping first over Arthur and then on to the rest of his party. “Lancelot has told us about you and your quest . . . and why you came here.”

Arthur gave a short bow. “We are thankful for your kindness.”

Alator made no reply for a moment, and the other airbenders watched him with their wide, dark eyes. “The Council of the Four Elders has long known this day would come,” he rumbled. “Our Air Temples have worked long and hard to keep the Avatar safe from . . . anyone who wished to harm him.” The light-eyed boy was watching his elder keenly.

“The council of elders will convene with the Fire Prince and Gaius,” Alator said, his commanding gaze sweeping over the room. A general murmur broke out in the crowd, and the airbenders began to disperse. Gaius clasped Merlin’s shoulder for a brief moment, and then was gone with Arthur.

An airbending woman came up to Gwen, Freya, and Mithian, and the four were soon chatting together amiably, joined by other women from the Air Temple. Merlin continued to gaze around him, admiring how the long windows let in the light and air, how the constant breeze made it feel like there was a whisper in the air.

“You’re a firebender?”

Merlin glanced around, finding the young airbender who had come in with Alator waiting at his elbow, wearing an eager smile. “Uh---yes,” he said, replying with a grin of his own. “So they tell me. I’m Merlin.”

“Mordred.” Seen up close, he looked even younger---Merlin put his age at twenty on the outside. “I’ve never had the chance to spar with a bender of a different element---I’ve always longed to try. Would you mind practicing with me?”

Merlin readily agreed, and Mordred led him outside into the open air. The sheer drops and the lack of railings made Merlin feel slightly nervous, but he ignored the feeling and turned to face his sparring partner. A dark-haired man with ragged curls tumbling over his arrow-shaped tattoo raised his eyebrows at them. “Mordred, what are you doing?” he asked, eyeing Merlin with some trepidation.

Mordred bounced closer, placating expression falling into place. “Father, he’s a firebender. You know how I’ve always wanted to spar with a firebender . . . it’s only for fun.”

Mordred’s father still raised an eyebrow. Merlin hesitated, then stepped forward and raised his hand. “Hello, I’m Merlin,” he said, putting on his friendliest, most innocent smile. “I’m friends with Lancelot?”

“Cerdan,” the man replied, still looking nervous. “Mordred’s never really sparred with anyone with actual fighting ability---though he’s outgrown most of the airbenders here already.”

“I’ll go easy on him,” Merlin promised, grinning. Mordred laughed airily.

“I don’t think there’ll be any need for  _ that, _ ” the young airbender said confidently. “I may have never sparred with a firebender before, but I’ll bet I’m more than a match for you in speed!”

Merlin crooked an eyebrow, smiling. “We’ll see about that.” The pair took several steps away from Cerdan, and the airbenders around them scattered, anticipating destruction. Merlin sunk into a deep stance. “You zip around on your ball thingy, and I’ll blast fire at you. See if you can evade it.”

“Easy,” Mordred said with a smirk. “I’ll give you bonus points if you can even  _ see _ me, firebender---let alone hit me.”

He waved his hands quickly, and the rush of wind increased. Merlin could feel it tugging at his fringe and clothes as Mordred gathered air around him, directing it into a circular ball of air that Lancelot and Elena used occasionally.

“Catch me if you can!” was Mordred’s parting shot as he took off, weaving towards the fountain in the courtyard, around it, and then back towards Merlin.

He’s quick, Merlin has to give him that. He thrust out with both fists, a roaring ball of fire launching from his movement and blasting against the rock face, the impact leaving a smoking hole. Merlin heard Mordred’s giggle, and he swung around just in time to see Mordred zip past. Merlin tried following him, jets of flames pushing him towards Mordred, but he was simply too fast. The airbender had been right: Merlin was having a hard time seeing him. Even when he tried aiming ahead of Mordred, it was simply too hard to predict where he would go. He was like the wind: fast, changeable, fluid; Merlin could only imagine the freedom that came from being that fast and furious. Well, if he was going to be like that, Merlin could be like the earth: strong, solid, steady. He planted his feet and waited, practicing his patience like all the old earthbenders in his village had taught him; strong and old like a mountain. Let Mordred come to  _ him _ .

Mordred swung close enough to tag Merlin, and the firebender struck out in a series of hard, fast punches, like how Old Man Simmons would when he was preparing the earth for planting. None of them hit Mordred, but he was forced to veer off again, leaping over the heads of two cheering airbenders. Merlin could see his grin. Mordred swung around a pillar, turning sharply, and shot towards Merlin again, only to be repulsed. Merlin could not find a way to land a hit on Mordred, but neither was Mordred able to tag him. He heard Gwaine mutter in the background, “This is why fighting airbenders is so boring; Mordred’s too fast, and Merlin’s too skillful. It’s a stalemate.”

Mordred seemed to agree; he slowed down eventually, rolling closer to Merlin again. “Fire is so powerful,” he gasped as he leapt off his levitation ball and flipped across the square towards Merlin. “Awe-inspiring. Air is freeing, yes, but so  _ weak _ . It’s frustrating.”

Merlin laughed. “I think you can rest easy at night knowing that your speed will make you nigh impossible to catch!” Mordred shrugged.

“Doesn’t really mean anything if you can’t attack your opponent back.”

The firebender nodded slowly, considering. “I don’t think it’s that air is weak,” he commented. “Air and fire have a lot in common, you know; I’ve noticed that as I’ve practiced with Lancelot and Elena. Perhaps all that you need to do is learn how to use air  _ as _ a weapon!”

Mordred was nodding enthusiastically. “I would love that!” He sobered for a moment. “I didn’t like having Uther on the throne much, and I’m not sure how I feel about Prince Arthur, but Morgana has been threatening us for years now, especially since we are the closest to the Fire Nation. I want to know how to defend myself and my people.”

Merlin was just teaching Mordred the first steps in the Dancing Dragon when Alator, Arthur, and Gaius returned, followed by the other elders. The murmurs in the courtyard increased, and Merlin’s admiring audience turned to face them. Gwen and the other hurried out of the Temple to join the crowd.

“What’s to happen, Alator?” a wizened old airbender said, her blue tattoos soft on her wrinkled skin. Alator put a hand on her arm, but spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.

“We’ve no great love of the Firelord, and have waited for years for a sign that it is finally the time to strike against her. Perhaps this is it---only time will tell. The council of elders has come to their decision. We will join forces with Fire Prince Arthur and fight against the Firelord.”

Alator turned and gave a brief, meaningful nod to someone behind Merlin. Mordred stepped forward, his expression apprehensive but eager.

“We introduce you to Mordred, the Air Nation’s Avatar.”

“ _ You’re _ the Avatar?” Merlin gasped, staring. Mordred nodded, flushing a little.

“Now you know why I’m so interested in other elements,” he confessed. “Of course, I’ve had to be kept a secret, so I’ve never had the chance to meet other benders and learn the other elements. But I’ve mastered airbending, and I plan to master the other three as soon as I can.” He gave Merlin an earnest look. “Perhaps  _ you _ could even be my firebending master.”

Merlin gave him a half-hearted smile, but inside his mind was racing. Why was everything on this quest giving him mixed signals? If Mordred was the Avatar, that meant Merlin could  _ not be _ . . . right?

* * *

Airbenders sure knew how to throw a party, Merlin thought as he rubbed his tired eyes. He had not fallen into a bedroll in one of the many communal sleeping rooms until long after the moon had passed her zenith, so he yawned and struggled to pay attention as Mordred led him, Percival, Gwaine, and Lancelot through the corridors of the Air Temple, chattering about history, art, and culture. They had passed the Pao So game room, the library, and the meditation chambers long before, and the deeper they ventured into the cliff, the darker and yet the more beautiful the Temple became. The air became mustier and sweeter. Statues of airbenders and bison lined the walls alongside paintings of god-like figures and geometrical shapes. Multi-colored art murals of spirits and benders flowed endlessly and flawlessly. Some of the pictures looked to be of a darker, more violent time; Merlin was surprised airbenders would want to remember that kind of history, but did not like to ask Mordred or Lancelot.

Gwaine rubbed his forehead, squinting in the torchlight as Mordred led them on. “Is it much further?” he asked plaintively. Despite the shortage of alcohol in Air Temple, Gwaine had  _ still _ managed to get his hands on some.

Mordred smirked a little. “Just one more place to show you,” he promised, a gleam in his eye as he came to a stop before a set of plain double doors. “I think you’ll like this.” Then he opened wide the door.

Merlin gasped. He couldn’t help it.

Unlike the rest of the Air Temple, this room had only one shaft of light coming from above. The single shaft was enough to illuminate the dark room. As Mordred led the way forward, Merlin’s mouth slowly fell more and more open; he heard Gwaine whistle from behind him; Lancelot was smirking at their expressions.

Statues lined the walls, a seemingly-unending row that circled down to stop in the middle of the floor before them. The last statue was of an old man with a hood pulled up over his head, holding a staff. As Merlin crept forward, hardly daring to breath in this space, he saw there was something firm and unyielding in this man’s face, something that reminded him of his step-father. Or of someone else Merlin had seen before; he could not quite put his finger on it.

“Do all Air Temples have a room like this?” Gwaine asked, breaking the spell. He was standing before another statue of a female airbender, her blank, unseeing eyes reflecting a small portion of light.

“Not all,” Mordred replied. He was standing with Lancelot, looking amused at their reactions. “Just here and the Southern Air Temple.”

Merlin looked at the statue on the left of the last one and almost jumped away: this one, with a thin, sallow face and sunken eyes, strongly resembled Cedric.

“What are these statues?” he asked, stepping back. “I’ve never heard of this hall before . . .”

Lancelot looked surprised, but he watched Merlin closely as he replied. “These are statues of all the Avatars.”

Merlin took another step back.

_ Of course, _ he thought, peering at the old man’s face again.  _ Avatar Anhora, Earth Kingdom. And Cedric’s great-grandfather, Avatar Sigan. _ The Earth Kingdom Avatar, Merlin knew, had died shortly before he was born, though it was hard to say exactly  _ how _ long before. His eyes flowed over the statues preceding, pausing on all the Fire Nation Avatars. Their faces were so stern and unapproachable. It was hard to imagine himself being one of them.

“Why aren’t you here?” he asked Mordred. The airbender raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not dead yet,” he replied. Merlin flushed.

“Right, of course.”

Percival watched Avatar Anhora thoughtfully. “No Fire Nation Avatar,” he murmured. Mordred pursed his lips.

“Thanks to Uther, there’s no way for us to know who the Fire Nation Avatar was.”

Merlin shivered. Just a little bit.

Gwaine cut in. “Why do all their eyes look so dead? There’s plenty detail on the clothing and face, but no attempt at making the eyes look . . . human.”

Merlin had noticed this too. Lancelot replied. “It’s an attempt to recreate the Avatar’s white eyes.”

Gwaine, Merlin, and Percival frowned at him. “The what?”

“It’s not a really well-known fact, but there are times when the Avatar’s eyes glow white. It’s a manifestation of the Avatar spirit that lives inside of them, like . . . well, like how my eyes turned green when the Lamia possessed me. It’s supposed to be a time when the Avatar is especially powerful and dangerous.”

“White eyes . . .” Percival muttered, his eyebrows scrunched like he was trying to remember something.

“It also highlights a trait that make the Avatar very useful when fighting spirits,” Mordred added, his soft voice echoing in the chamber. “Unlike other people, the Avatar cannot be possessed by spirits.”

“Really?”

“Yes. If you think about, there’s  _ already  _ a spirit inside the Avatar---that’s why it’s called the  _ Avatar spirit _ . A person can’t be possessed by two spirits at the same time, and even if they could, the Avatar would always be stronger. The other spirit would just be---”

“---ejected,” Merlin finished for him, his lips numb. More vividly than ever before, the Lamia’s unsuccessful attempt at possessing him flashed through his mind. Percival’s eyes were narrowing, and he glanced towards Merlin. The firebender did not like to think what that meant. Lancelot was giving Merlin A Look again, as if to say,  _ How much more proof do you need? _

Merlin turned away. That question had been prominent in his mind lately, as well.

He stepped closer to Avatar Anhora’s statue. The stern-faced earthbender stared back at him, his blank eyes piercing deep into Merlin’s. All the eyes were like that, Merlin thought, looking at him, asking him,  _ Accept us. Listen to us. _

Merlin shivered and looked away, but the eyes were everywhere.

Mordred was explaining something to Percival, when the ground and walls around them rocked. Merlin lurched and grabbed onto Sigan to steady himself. The other four had frozen. “What was that?” Gwaine demanded.

Mordred didn’t answer, merely led the way out of the chamber at a dead run. Merlin turned his back on the eyes, but he could still feel them watching him as he raced out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know: according to the Avatar wiki, only female airbenders lived in the east and west Air Temples, and males lived in the north and south. I found that out a bit late, so . . . that didn’t make it into this story :) I don’t remember that ever being mentioned in the shows . . .


	20. The Firelord's Quickening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Way boy! Sorry this has taken so long to update. This semester has really been taking up a lot of my time. I am not abandoing this story and will be finishing it as soon as I can, but school and work will have to take priority.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter!

“---over there you can see the entrance to our all-day echo chamber; Monk Lhambo used to spend days on end in there, humming until the whole temple vibrated with his  _ om _ s. On your left, there is---”

Freya could hardly hear their airbender guide over the wind in the canyon; the non-stop  _ ruuuuuuuussshhh _ was starting to put her on edge. She had spotted a fountain and edged towards it, hoping that the  _ sssssshhhhhhhh _ of the flowing water would drown out the wind whipping through the upside-down temple.

Cedric gave her a bored look as their guide continued to talk about airbending history. “Everything you never wanted to know about the Western Air Temple,” he muttered. One of airbenders shot him a confused look.

“Hush,” Freya admonished her brother; airbenders had good hearing. “Remember how you loved the  _ sha momo _ they gave us last night; be kind.”

Cedric nodded grudgingly. “It was lovely, but there wasn’t nearly enough of it,” he grumbled, but quietly.

Freya shook her head and opened her mouth to answer. She and Cedric realized something was wrong at the same moment.

An eerie silence had fallen over the courtyard; all the airbenders had stopped what they were doing and turned towards the surrounding mists.

“What . . . are they doing?” Cedric muttered, his eyebrows pinched together.

Freya didn’t know. She looked at the airbenders’ squinching eyebrows and frowns; they looked confused, like they were hearing something out in the mist that shouldn’t be there. The two waterbenders strained to see through the fog in vain. Freya’s breathing quickened as what the airbenders were hearing filtered through to her.

At first, she thought someone was whistling, or singing, a warbling, wailing, piercing noise that reached their ears faintly, as if from a great distance. She heard Cedric draw in a quick breath. They both knew what kind of thing made a noise like that.

“Get down!” Freya yelled, throwing herself to the courtyard’s stone floor. At least three airbenders dove on top of her: she went down hard, cracking her head on the stones. The whistling noise grew louder, rose to a screaming pitch---Freya clutched at her ears, but raised her eyes, trying to see---

Spirits were streaming out of the mist, dozens of them---red, black, green, purple---feathery tendrils trailing after them as they came. They swooped down on the airbenders. The air was soon full of red-yellow blurs as the benders leapt in every direction to avoid being attacked.

Freya clutched Cedric’s arm as best she could. “Cedric! This is our chance!” Her brother gulped, but he followed her as she jumped to her feet and bent water out of the fountain, waiting for the spirits to come to them.

The next minutes were filled with bending, dodging, and twisting. Freya had hardly any time to focus on what was going on around her as she twisted water around the spirits and smacked them away from the airbenders. It was like Mordred had said yesterday: air just did not have the offensive capabilities needed. She could see a few unmoving bodies scattered throughout the courtyard.

She wondered where Merlin was; not only could they use his firebending, his presence was calming in general.

More spirits came from around them. Out of the corner of her eye, Freya could see something huge and red emerging from the mist, a terrifyingly familiar black symbol etched into its side.

_ Will those blasted airships never leave us alone _ ? She griped in her head as she faced off against a particularly vicious spirit in the form of a winged black panther, dark flames curling off its form.

Firebenders were coming over from the airship now, jetting on fire blasts and swinging on ropes. The airbenders were doing their best to defend themselves and their temple, but it was almost all they could do to keep alive against the onslaught of fire and spirit. Freya and Cedric were surrounded on all sides by swishing air and wind thrown by inexperienced benders.

A spirit swung at Freya while she was spiritbending, but was blasted out of the sky by a fireball. She spared a glance over her shoulder, and sighed when she saw Merlin had joined the fight. He was making his way towards her through the mess, but there was too much chaos for him to come quickly. Mordred had thrown himself into the fight, blasting spirits out of the way with air streams and leaping over firebenders left and right.

Before she had finished spiritbending the black spirit-panther, a stream of fire hit the ground not far from Freya. She was thrown backwards by the blast. Little rocks pelted her, and she felt her ankle twist painfully as she thudded across the ground.

For a second after she rolled to a stop, she could not move for the pain, and gasped in and out, trying to regain her breath. She could hear Merlin shouting, trying to get to her, but he was not fast enough.

That one moment of pain was all it took. The winged panther jumped.

She felt its claws on her for a second, scratching and tearing, and then it was right in her face. She fought, but it was too late; the spirit pushed its way into her mouth and into her spirit.

She disconnected. Freya could feel the spirit meshing with her body, taking control of her eyes, her mouth, her arms, hands, fingers, legs,  _ bending _ . She felt her arm go up, pulling a string of water towards her, and, panicking, she tried to force it down. Her arm ignored her command. Freya tried to open her mouth and yell for help, to get Cedric’s attention, or Merlin’s, or one of the airbenders nearby, but instead what came out was a low, sinister growl like an angry cat.

She was helpless, trapped inside her own body.

The spirit knew a little bit about bending, if not much. The string of water it had picked up with her bending snaked clumsily around the leg of one of the defending airbenders; not expecting an attack from behind, he fell and struggled against the binding, but it was too late: Freya tried to close her eyes in horror, but the spirit watched with satisfaction as a Fire Nation soldier finished the airbender off with one decisive blow. Recoiling the stream around its/her arm for better access, the spirit turned to stroll towards Cedric. It recognized him as its biggest threat.

_ No. No! _

Cedric, focused on dodging fireblasts, did not even spare her a second glance. He thought he did not need to.

Spiritbending had always been their family’s concentration, especially after what happened to their father and brothers, but Cedric was a reasonably skilled waterbender in other ways. His opponent, a spindly but agile firebender, sent burst after burst in his direction, hoping one would hit, but Cedric leapt from side to side, snapping at her with a whip made of water. There was a burn on his arm from when he had not been fast enough.

The spirit smiled a little using Freya’s mouth, and she struggled and screamed. Already her physical body was starting to ache and burn from prolonged contact with the spirit. It would not be able to possess her for much longer.

She raised her hand and batted at Cedric from behind, icy water whipping into his side. He feel sideways into the pond and rolled back onto his feet almost immediately. His firebender opponent eyed Freya suspiciously, but jumped forward; Cedric emptied the fountain in one stroke, knocking the firebender backwards again.

He stumbled to his feet, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Freya. She wondered what he was seeing. She could feel the left side of her face burning like it was melting off. 

Not breaking eye contact, Cedric brought the water up around him. She knew what he was going to do: he was going to try and spiritbend her. His dark, greasy hair drifted into his eyes like a water plant as he bent streaming strands of liquid towards her; the spirit batted some of them out of the way, but he was able to encircle her in a burning, glowing embrace.

The spirit still had control of her bending, however, and before long the strands of water were knocked aside; she gathered the water around her and raced towards him with the inevitableness of the tide, water freezing into spikes on her palms---

Freya saw a stream of water coming up to knock her away, but Cedric’s bending failed halfway and washed over her harmlessly, slightly cooling her burning face. It took her a few seconds to realize why he had lost control.

The ice spike on her hand was buried in Cedric’s chest. The light faded from his eyes as the spirit yelled in triumph.

* * *

Arthur was with Gwen and Gaius when the Fire Nation attacked.

He had managed to get him and Gwen out of a tour of the temple. Instead, they took their own tour, strolling carefully through the windy levels, examining statues and gazing out into the misty expanse around them. She put her arm through his and they talked about anything and everything.

He somehow managed to tell her about the strange dream he had had. Arthur had never mentioned his execution dreams to anyone, but he figured Gwen had a right to know. She listened with pursed lips as he gave her the details of the dream and how it differed from the others.

“What do you think it means?” he asked almost desperately as he finished.

She smiled kindly. “Oh, Arthur, dreams don’t usually  _ mean _ anything. You’re probably just anxious about Merlin, that’s all.”

He was not sure whether to press the point or agree; to be sure he  _ was _ anxious about Merlin. “I think it’s more than that,” Arthur muttered, turning to scan the ancient temple around them. Gwen leaned closer to hear him over the wind, but he did not continue. He had just spotted Gaius talking with Alator and another airbender Arthur thought might have been Mordred’s father, Cerdan.

Gaius raised his hand in greeting just as Alator took his leave. The head monk nodded his head at them as he walked away.

Gaius clasped Gwen’s hand as the couple came to stop near him. Cerdan, although he looked nervous and kept twisting his hands together, gave Arthur a sincere smile. “I can’t say how glad I am to have you here, Your Highness,” the airbender said. “Mordred has been itching to do something in this war.”

“We’re glad the Avatar and your nation are willing to help us, Cerdan,” Gwen told him, clasping his arm warmly.

Cerdan nodded, his face twitching into a smile. Arthur watched his anxious expression and thought what a burden it must have been to raise the Avatar in secret.

That was when the spirits arrived. Arthur was glad he had decided to strap Excalibur on before heading out that morning, no matter the peaceful, carefree attitude of the Air Temple. When the spirits streamed out of the mist, he had already drawn his sword and was crouching at the ready.

Gwen stood a little bit behind him, closer to the rocky wall of the Temple. They shared a too-short glance before Arthur turned back to the advancing spirits.

Gaius was old, but he was still a skillful firebender; what he lacked in power, he made up for in precision. Arthur felt his gratitude for the older man swell as spirit after spirit fell into the mist after being blasted from the sky.

Gwen wrenched rock after rock from the cliffside, her hands alternately clenched tight and held stiff and flat. Dust swirled around, and her curls shifted endlessly in the wind.

All Arthur could do was stay alive. He was starting to appreciate just how huge---and consequently, slow---the Lamia had been, as the spirits zipped around them, their glowing eyes taunting him as they swung past, leaving only a malevolent scent behind. The ones that  _ were _ foolish enough to get close met a sticky, oozy death at the end of Excalibur, slowly transforming, as had the Lamia, back into an innocent shape.

The Fire Nation airship loomed out of the mist, and suddenly they were also surrounded by firebenders and even other kinds of benders: earthbenders and waterbenders who had defected to Morgana’s side. Arthur smiled tightly. Spirits were one things, but  _ benders _ ? He knew how to deal with these. One by one, he searched them out and challenged them, drawing them away from the fleeing airbenders.

He saw Gaius at some point in the battle. The old man smiled at him, his breath coming in pants. “Looks like that training I gave you was useful somehow!”

Arthur grinned. “You have no idea!” he said.

He caught a glimpse of red cloth fluttering in this peripheral vision and whirled, looking for a firebender. The figure had disappeared behind a pile of shifting rubble and stone. Arthur saw, from behind the pile, a brilliant flash of light and a crack, almost like thunder. Suspiciously, he stepped around the pile---and froze.

The flash of red had been from a tattered red dress clinging to a familiar figure Arthur had hoped he would never see again. Nimueh towered over over an airbender who knelt on the ground, too weak to stand: Cerdan. The lightningbender’s red mouth was twisted into a sneer as she looked down on Mordred’s father. “I know you’re one of the elders here,  _ monk _ ,” she snarled. “Tell me where the Avatar is!”

Cerdan raised his head weakly, but in his eyes was the resolution and strength of an approaching hurricane. “You can do what you like to me,” he breathed, his voice carrying even to where Arthur was, “but that doesn’t change the fact there is no Avatar here. There never was.”

Nimueh raised her hand, and Arthur knew what came next; Cerdan was worse than useless to her now. Before Arthur could move, she raised two fingers and lightning issued out of them, dancing over Cerdan’s skin, sinking into his skin repeatedly as he shook on the ground. 

Arthur remembered what  _ that _ felt like.

Swallowing his fear, Arthur leapt forward. All he could do now was distract Nimueh and hope Cerdan got away. He raised Excalibur in challenge as he raced forward. He heard Gwen call for him in fear.

“Nimueh!” She turned sharply at her name, teeth clenched together, face lightened demonically by the shivering lightning. Cerdan slumped to the ground and did not move as Nimueh finally released him. “Prince Arthur,” she purred, her blue eyes glinting in the misty light. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“The feeling’s not mutual,” Arthur replied coldly, consciously controlling his breathing. He had found to his detriment five years ago what it was like to fight Nimueh---there was only one way for this fight to end, but if it would save the others he would take her punishment. He only wished she would spare him the quips and get on with it.

She did not disappoint, and he raised Excalibur instinctively as she raised her hand.

The next thing Arthur knew, he was on the ground. He could not remember how he got there, but he had the distinct impression that he had been punched in the chest. His head hurt.

White light was flickering towards his left, and there was a strange buzzing noise. He vaguely wondered if there was a bee.

Someone was screaming his name.

There was a crash like thunder, and pain filled his whole body. It felt like a thousand bees were stinging him all over, striking again and again.

Then the pain was gone. He could not feel his heart beating. He wondered if it had melted from the heat and the pain, melted with the rest of his tired, beaten body into the stones of the Air Temple.

A hazy, black-haired figure came into his field of vision. Tattered red dress, smirking red lips, and a face that made Arthur feel anger like  _ red _ whenever he thought about her. A strand of lightning played over her fingertips, buzzing softly like a bee.

Nimueh sneered at him, purring like a cat with its next meal. “I think it’s time you and I had a little chat, Arthur.”

* * *

The airbenders brought down one airship with a fierce windstorm that swept down the deep canyon, bashing the metal sides against rock walls and finally into the stream. The other four airships, hidden farther away in the mist, sailed on. Most of the firebenders escaped.

Freya was too weak to cry when Merlin found her. He found her lying just a foot or so away from Cedric’s body, her fingers curled around the sleeve of his tunic. At first, Merlin thought she was still possessed: the right side of her face was covered by black, closely-interlocking scales, and her right eye was no longer hazel, but bright green and slitted like a cat’s. She just looked at him tiredly, hopelessly. All he could do was gather her into his arms and hold her.

They sat there for several moments, dust settling on and around them, yellow- and red-clad figures wandering around, voices clashing in the mist. Merlin did not know where their other friends were. He wondered how many had died.

Freya shifted her head in his arms, and he pulled back to look at her. “We’ve got to make it right,” she whispered, her eyes straying to her brother’s body. “Make it right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I would love to know what you think and any suggestions you have.


	21. The Mark of Nimueh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, what is this, a chapter so quickly? Happy Memorial Day, everyone!

_This is a part of airships I did not miss,_ Arthur thought grimly as he was unceremoniously tossed into a dark, metal holding cell. The two red- and black-clad guards dragged his arms behind him to chain him to the wall. He gave them both a fierce glare, and was met, not with angry expressions, but something akin to curiosity.

“It’s been a long time, Prince Arthur,” one of the guards commented as he latched the manacle tightly around Arthur’s wrist. “We wondered when you would come back to us.”

Arthur stared at him. Where did he think Arthur had been, vacationing on the beaches of Ember Island? Did he not know that the prince had been forced to flee for his life? The other, younger, guard looked at his companion with raised eyebrows.

“Well, excuse me for wishing I had come back to the Fire Nation on my own terms,” Arthur responded, trying and failing to keep sarcasm from his voice.

“I thought you were so eager to come back, Arthur,” Nimueh crooned, swanning into the cell as the guards finished their work. They backed away, heads bowed; the younger one watched Nimueh nervously. “You’ve been gathering an army so quickly against us. Weren’t you planning on coming anyway?”

“I’d hoped to come to the Fire Nation over your dead body,” he snarled.

She _tsk_ ed, then gestured at the guards. “Leave us.” They did, but slowly, glancing over their shoulders as they went.

“You’ve regained your old fire, Arthur,” she purred as she came closer. He watched her through narrow eyes, hatred burning through him. “I remember how you used to be, before your father died. Before Morgana threw you in jail and let _me_ at you.”

He did not shiver. He did _not_.

“Why don’t I see if I can . . . shock that out of you, hmmm?” Lightning was playing on her fingertips, and he braced himself.

He hoped his friends were alright. That was Arthur’s last thought before the lightning tickled him, light piercing his eyes, digging across his skin and then under, pricking his heart and filling his brain with needles, contorting his muscles like bloodbending. The only thing that kept him still were the chains around his arms.

He wasn’t sure how long it went on. She could not electrocute him steadily, lest she stop his heart, but Arthur felt sure the torture continued for hours and hours. The airship grew hazy, dim, and then disappeared.

Arthur wasn’t even sure he was on the airship anymore. His brain felt like mush. Perhaps he had dreamed it all? Did he ever really escape at all?

_It had been days, weeks, perhaps months since he had last seen the sun. Nimueh had consigned him to the deepest, darkest, dampest cell in the Fire Nation prison. She had, at one point, visited him every day, but her visits came more infrequently now. She stood over him, pursed lips red like she had been drinking the blood of her enemies, sparks playing on her fingertips._

_“Don’t fight me, Arthur,” she cooed. “You’ll only make it worse for yourself. Just accept it: you are not the Fire Prince. You are not the Firelord.”_

Arthur opened his eyes, forcing himself back to the airship. Nimueh stood over him. Her dress was still as red, still as tattered, but there was nothing but satisfaction in her eyes as she looked down on him. “Are you still going to fight me, Arthur?” she said. “So be it.”

More pain.

Had the last five years even happened, or had they been a product of his fever-ridden, tortured mind? Who was Gwen? Who was Merlin? He had ever really escaped the Fire Nation?

_Morgana came down to see him every once in a while. At first, he had yelled, pleaded, cajoled, tried to reason, but she was unmoving. “I wish I could trust you, Arthur,” she said often. “You’ve always been so kind to me. But I know, in the end, you’re going to follow right in your father’s footsteps.” As the months passed, he grew quieter, stopped fighting back. It was when he stopped talking that she started. She talked to him like how she had done when they were small. Before Morgause had found her._

_Nimueh made it clear to him that the Fire Nation was welcoming to Morgana and her reign. They welcomed the relaxed laws; benders danced on the streets. People from other nations were visiting like they hadn’t in twenty years._

_“You’re not even a bender!” Nimueh taunted. “How could you ever be Firelord? How could you ever give them what they wanted?”_

How true _, he thought vaguely._ The Fire Nation doesn’t want a non-bender as a Firelord; that’s why they killed my mother. This is best. This is best.

_In the dark, cold cell, his mind dwelt endlessly on a litany of images that flickered over and over in his mind like lightning. All the executions, the thousands of firebenders and others that had died in the courtyard, sinking beneath the waves in that small, dark pool. He thought about his father’s last, desperate look before Morgana killed him. His half-sister’s hard, sorrowful look as he was dragged down to the dungeons._

“That’s right, Arthur. It pains me to have to re-teach you like this, but it seems you’ve finally learned what happens when you cross me. You’re not the Fire Prince: you never were. You were just a usurper taking Morgana’s throne.”

He could not tell where he was. He was not even sure what his name was anymore. Who was Arthur? He thought about fighting back against Nimueh, telling her what he _really_ thought, but he had been fighting for so long. He let his eyes slip closed.

He felt a hand touch his shoulder. “Arthur?”

The voice was not familiar. He flinched away from the touch.

“Arthur, wake up.”

Who was Arthur? Why were they bothering him? He was tired, so tired . . .

“Arthur. _Wake up_.”

His eyes snapped open. Two hazy figures loomed over him, one of them dark-skinned, the other pale. He squinted trying to see their faces, but everything was blurry. The pale one grabbed his shoulder to ground him.

“Who . . .” he whispered, hardly able to speak. He was trying to ask who they were, but what came out was, “Who am I?”

The dark-skinned blur said, “You’re our Fire Prince. Don’t you remember?”

He thought about that.

And then, Arthur remembered.

He _had_ escaped. He _had_ gotten out. He had gone to the Earth Kingdom, and lived another life, one he had been forced to leave behind because--- 

_Merlin turned around and regarded his would-be murderer with an almost proud look. “You’re the Fire Prince. Prince Arthur. The heir to the throne of the Fire Nation.”_

Yes, that was his name, wasn’t it? Arthur. Nimueh had tried to convince him he wasn’t the Fire Prince, _again_. She had succeeded.

The two figures over him came slowing into focus. Arthur saw that is was the two guards from before. Nimueh was nowhere to be seen.

“Your Highness?” one of them murmured, tightening his grip on Arthur’s shoulder. “Stay with us.”

The darker one passed a hand over his eyes. “We almost lost you there. Nimueh went too far.” He looked disgusted.

Arthur digested this. “Why are you helping me?” he croaked. His throat hurt abominably; now he knew how Merlin felt after his almost-strangulation.

The two guards looked uncomfortable. “You’re the Fire Prince. You’ll _always_ be our Fire Prince, whether you come back to the throne or not.”

Arthur stared between them. All the thoughts he had had about the Fire Nation citizens abandoning him flitted through his mind again. “Okay,” he said awkwardly.

“Not everyone in the Fire Nation Army is against you, Prince Arthur,” one of the guards assured him.

Something Gwen said came back to him. _“Whether they accept you or not, whether they want you to be Firelord, you at least owe it to them to try. You owe it to them to_ fight _. That’s the Arthur I know, someone who fights for the people he loves. That’s---that’s the man I fell in love with.”_

Arthur was still in the cell on the airship, the stench of oil and smoke roiling around him, the rumble of the engines moving through him, but somehow, this is did not disappoint him. He knew who he was: Prince Arthur.

The two guards turned at a commotion in the corridors beyond. “What’s going on?” the younger one murmured.

Nimueh’s voice echoed towards them through the metal airship. “Prepare to be boarded!” It sounded like the Fire Nation guards were preparing for a fight, Arthur thought. He smirked.

His friends were coming for him.

* * *

The four fleeing airships, heading almost directly south to the Fire Nation, were not hard to find, even at night. The three airbenders---Lancelot, Mordred, and Alator---carried Merlin, Elyan, and Gwaine on their gliders, while Percival skimmed across the water below with Gwen. The group wanting to go rescue Arthur had been much bigger, but Alator had put his foot down. He didn’t want the mission to turn into a battle. “We are rescuing, not fighting,” he insisted.

Mordred looked mutinous as the head monk said this. Lancelot, personally, doubted the wisdom of taking the boy with them even if he _was_ the Avatar. He looked ready to avenge his father’s gruesome death at the first opportunity.

Lancelot looked mournfully over their group, which had become more rag-tag as time went on. Elyan was healed, but still was not in peak condition; he insisted on coming on the grounds that he was their only metalbender. Merlin had been torn between rescuing the Fire Prince and staying to help Freya heal emotionally and physically.

As the airships came into sight, Lancelot tried to remain positive. They were a skilled group. Perhaps they might even be able to get Arthur out without incident.

Merlin reached down a hand to touch his shoulder. “That one!” he yelled over the wind. “The second one to the right---that’s Nimueh’s ship. That’s where we’re headed.”

Lancelot wasn’t sure how he could tell in the dark, but tilted to head towards it. There was only one guard on the catwalks, and Lancelot swept him off into the ocean before any alarm could be sounded.

“A little understaffed?” the airbender asked worriedly. “Where are all the guards?”

Merlin shook his head, but he looked concerned. The other airbenders landed lightly on the catwalks, then Alator flew down to the ocean to fetch Percival and Gwen. “Remember the plan,” Lancelot urged them. “We need to do this as quickly and quietly as possible.” The others nodded. Gwen looked both close to tears and resolute as she nodded at Percival.

“Elyan, with me,” Mordred said, his pale eyes flickering strangely in the dim lights from the airship. “We’ll go up top, get ready to take this airship out once they have Arthur.” Elyan looked a little queasy at the thought of more flying, but he nodded.

“We don’t know where Arthur is being held,” Merlin fretted, his eyebrows drawn together. “Alator, Gwaine, you two find the cells in the front of the ship; Lancelot and I will go to to the back.”

“Got it, split,” Alator said sharply, and they divided to their duties. Gwen and Percival stayed on the catwalks to keep a lookout, Lancelot and Merlin went up the aft ladder, while Alator and Gwaine climbed to the fore of the ship.

It was eerie inside the airship in a way it had not been in the airship stolen from Ba Sing Se. Lancelot and Merlin slunk from corner to corner, peering around,  but did not see many people. “Are they usually this empty?” Lancelot breathed as they came closer to the cells.

Merlin shrugged, looking troubled. “I really hope it’s not a trap,” he muttered. “We can’t afford to lose anyone else.” Lancelot inwardly agreed.

At one point, they peeked around a corner to see two Fire Nation soldiers conversing. Merlin stiffened and sucked in a sharp breath. Looking at one of the soldiers, Lancelot thought it might have been the firebender who showed up at the Water Tribe. Thomas? He and Merlin had been friends, if Lancelot remembered correctly.

“---such a shame we had to retreat,” the other soldier was saying. “If we were there for the Avatar, why’d we settle for the Fire Prince? We could have blasted that temple off the cliffside!”

Merlin’s hands curled into fists.

Thomas shook his head. His arm was still bandaged, but no longer in a sling. Lancelot thought he looked tired. “We didn’t come to slaughter the Air Nomads, or to lose all our ships to a whirlwind. Failing the Avatar’s capture, Prince Arthur will be prize enough for Firelord Morgana.”

Lancelot and Merlin exchanged glances. Merlin’s eyes were wide.

The other soldier scoffed. “For now.”

They moved on, boots clunking against the metal grating of the airship. Merlin didn’t move for a moment, his breath unnaturally loud in the enclosed space.

“Merlin?” Lancelot breathed once Thomas’ footsteps had faded from even his sensitive ears.

The firebender nodded and jerked forward, stumbling down the corridor towards where the cells were. They did not have to walk for long.               

“Almost there,” Merlin whispered, just as they turned a corner---

A woman stood in the corridor, short, fair-skinned. White-haired, but she looked young. Her feet did not touch the ground. A spirit.

Lancelot and Merlin froze as she turned to them. “Well, well, well,” she said, her voice soft as a whisper. “What have we here? An airbender, and . . . ?”

She tilted her head at Merlin, considering. The two friends exchanged nervous glances.

“We, er, we got lost,” Merlin said quickly. “I’m a Fire Nation soldier---see? I have a uniform. And he’s . . . a spy. We sent him to infiltrate the Air Nomads. Gave us some pretty good information.”

Her smile grew. “You can’t lie to me, boy. Do you know who I am?”

Lancelot swallowed. “Uh, no. And we’d just like to get past if it’s all the same to you.”

“You’ve come to rescue the prince,” she mused. “I see. Very well. I don’t care about him---Nimueh was a fool to leave the Air Temple before we had gained our _real_ prize. I’ll let you pass if you tell me where the Avatar is.”

A pause.

“How would we know that?” Lancelot asked. “The Avatar isn’t known to us.”

“Lying again,” the spirit mused. She seemed to grow taller, her shadow filling the corridor. “Let me enlighten you on who you are dealing with. I am Mab, the queen of the Spirit World.”

Merlin gulped. Lancelot thought, _We just have the best luck, don’t we?_

“That’s wonderful,” Merlin squeaked. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Your Majesty. But, that doesn’t change the fact that we can’t tell you where the Avatar is.”

Mab showed her teeth---long, dripping fangs. “So be it,” she whispered, and attacked.

This was not like fighting the weaker, smaller spirits at the Air Temple, or even the Lamia. This was different. She blasted Merlin and Lancelot apart before they could even get their fists up, then swirled around immediately for another pass. Her eyes had turned black, and she had definitely grown.

They were almost ready the second time. Merlin planted his feet and punched out, refusing to be moved. She dodged his fireblast and Lancelot was forced to leap straight upwards to avoid her; Mab’s head passed less than an inch under his tucked-in feet. Lancelot frantically searched his memories for what Merlin had taught him about attacking, but all he could think about was how to making an airball.

So he did. As Mab smashed towards them again, he barreled at her on an invisible whirlwind.

“Lance, no---!”

He managed to knock her off course, but the collision also smashed him into the wall and knocked all the breath out of him.

Merlin got off another shot, but Mab grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall. Lancelot gasped, spots jumping in front of his eyes. Merlin’s feet scrabbled at the wall, reaching for the floor, and he grasped Mab’s arms as he struggled to breathe.

Queen Mab gave a delighted chuckle as Merlin struggled to free himself from her grip. “How funny! I knew you were lying.” Merlin could see himself reflected in her shiny black eyes she got right into his face. “ _I sense the Spirit of Raava in you_.”

“The what?” Merlin rasped, then punched her in the face with a fireball. She shrieked and whirled away from the flames, dancing along the other side of the metal corridor as he limped to his feet.

Mab bared her sharp teeth. “You have some fight in you, boy!”

“Merlin! Are you alright?” Lancelot cried. Gathering his strength, he threw a _whooooosh_ of air towards the queen, but it did little more than ruffle her clothes. He wondered what Mab’s eerie statement had meant: s _pirit of who_?

Mab stalked closer, and Merlin raised his fists. “Why don’t you go into the Avatar State and _destroy_ me, boy?” she hissed.

Merlin turned, impossibly, even paler. “What?” he breathed.

If Lancelot had been a lesser man, he might have yelled, “I _told_ you so!” He restrained himself---somehow---as Mab came closer. “Don’t you know? Don’t you realize what you are? I’m the Queen of the Spirit World; I know a spirit when I see it.”

Merlin gulped and stumbled back from her approach. Even he could not argue with that.

Mab had grown even taller, and the hallway was filled with the stench of rot coming from her leafy clothing. “Show yourself,” she said, spiraling ever closer. Lancelot was backed against the wall now.

“No,” Merlin said.

“Show yourself!” Mab cried, suddenly furious. “ _Show yourself! Fight me!”_

Merlin somehow missed her blow, pushing the queen back with a roar of flames. It was a wonder, Lancelot thought, that no one else had found them yet. They were not exactly being quiet or subtle.

“Show yourself, Raava!” Mab yelled, and Merlin ducked.

“What do you want!?” he gasped. “I don’t know who---”

Mab caught him by the neckerchief and threw him. He landed heavily at the end of the corridor and rolled to an abrupt stop at the wall. Panting, he tried to stand and fell back with a cry. His leg was bleeding.

Mab watched his efforts with a twisted but disappointed stare. “Fine,” she said, almost too softly for Lancelot to hear. “I suppose we’ll just have to do this the hard way.”

Without warning she whipped around and charged at Lancelot. He frantically raised his staff to block her, but she shoved him roughly against the wall. His head banged against the metal. “Lancelot!” Merlin yelled, finally struggling to his feet, but his bleeding leg would not carry him; he fell again.

Mab bared her teeth in Lancelot’s face. “Never forget,” she said, head turned so that Merlin could hear. “This was the day you failed to save your friend.”

She raised her arm to finish Lancelot off. Merlin was struggling in the corner, his breath coming his pants as he struggled to get up. Lancelot was looking under Mab’s arm at his friend, willing Merlin to know that he had done everything he could.

Then, Merlin’s whole body stiffened. His hands curled into claws on the floor, and Lancelot _heard_ the metal squeal and bend. Merlin’s head went up in one sharp movement.

Lancelot froze.

Merlin’s eyes weren’t blue anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed :)


	22. The Avatar State

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Here's the next chapter. I kinda ended the last one in the middle of a crucial moment, so if you need to go back and re-read the last couple chapters I would definitely recommend that.
> 
> Enjoy!

Elyan could not help but think, as Mordred lighted on the top of the airship with a feather-light step---and the metalbender with a clunk and a stumble---that he had expected more guards. He glanced around nervously, trying to pierce the darkness with his eyes.

“Does this whole affair seem too easy to you too, or is it just me?” he muttered. Mordred, with his supernatural airbending hearing, caught it still.

“We will deal with whatever comes,” he responded, which sounded more fatalistic than Elyan was used to from airbenders. Watching Lancelot and Elena, he had thought airbenders were typically happy-go-lucky sorts of people, prone to laughter and smiles, always twirling and dancing like they had a song in their hearts that could only be expressed through body movement.

Mordred was not like that.

Elyan could relate. There had been little to smile or laugh about since his own father had been killed a few years previously. The only way he had found to move on was to throw himself into his work. Perhaps he could help Mordred forget as well.

“How are we supposed to know when Arthur’s been rescued?” Elyan had to shout over the cacophony of wind and turbines churning on the top of the airship. He tried to step lightly so no one inside could hear him, but his earthbender’s tread was no match for Mordred’s breath-like padding.

“Merlin will send up a signal,” Mordred replied. His voice was low, almost a growl. “Besides, I should be able to hear. Don’t you have seismic sense?”

Elyan shrugged. “Never learned.”

The Avatar rolled his eyes. “Is your group ready for  _ anything _ ?”

“Anything and everything!” Elyan replied. Inside, he was marveling at the reversed dichotomy: a cheerful, laughing earthbender with a moody, tortured airbender.

Mordred let out a heavy sigh and knelt to press his ear against the cold, red metal. Elyan ruffled his hair and scanned the night around him. The sky was a deep blue, almost black. He squatted and pressed his hands against the metal surface: the entire airship was made of thin iron sheets, and Elyan memorized the feel of the well-made machine under his hands. Perhaps in mere moments he would be tearing apart the rudder and the propellers, sending the airship and its occupants to a watery doom.

It was a crying shame, really. Such a beautiful piece of work. He couldn’t wait to get to the Fire Nation and look at their whole airfleet; what a sight that would be! He could only imagine.

Elyan pressed his hands more firmly against the metal, trying to sense vibrations or movements through the material, but there was nothing. Leon had tried to teach him seismic sense, but had commented that it wasn’t really something that could be taught; seismic sense was a skill that could only be discovered.

“Elyan!”

Mordred’s sharp voice broke through his inner thoughts. “What?” he asked. The airbender was pressed even closer to the ground, but he sat up in alarm as Elyan looked at him.

“I think someone’s coming,” Mordred said in a rush. “A patrol? It’s close, almost to the top.”

Elyan whirled around, looking for a trapdoor, just as one to his left lifted. Warm firelight filtered through, and two soldiers came up top. One held a flame in his hand.

The four froze only for a second when they saw each other, then the firebender gave a shout of alarm. Mordred reacted quickly, swinging his staff and blasting the firebender out of the trapdoor and across the airship. He skidded to a stop several feet away. The other soldier dropped down into the hatch before the wind reached him.

Mordred’s eyes widened. “Do something!” he hissed, shaking Elyan’s arm. “He’s going to raise the alarm!”

Elyan wanted to shake him right back and say, “You’re the Avatar!  _ You _ do something!” It was not the time for that argument, however.

The firebender rolled over and got to his feet; he favored his left knee, but that did not slow him down a whit. His hand went back; Elyan wrenched up the metal plating at his feet just in time.

Fire blasted around the sides of the metal defense. The iron seared red within seconds.

The firebender darted to the side, trying to get another clear shot. Without thinking, Elyan grasped the metal barrier and swung it around to defend from the other side, then pulled his hand back with a yell from the burning metal.

Fire rushed towards them. Mordred frantically swung his staff, pushing the flames  _ barely _ off-course. Another blast, and he swung again. And again.

Elyan looked around frantically for something to help. They were on a metal ship, but he could not do too much damage, lest he down the ship too soon.

Mordred launched himself into the air, the firebender punching endlessly, blast after blast of fire lighting up the night. He had evidently forgotten about Elyan, which was ok with him.

Mordred landed, glider staff held tightly before him. His expression had changed: the fear had gone, replaced by . . . calculation? Eagerness? What it was, it made Elyan’s blood run cold.

The firebender leapt after him, leg coming down with devastating wave of flame. Elyan leapt forward, inwardly cursing himself.

Fire met airbender with a bang. Air exploded outwards, and the firebender did not get his defenses up in time. With a cry, he flew backwards, his clothes aflame.

Mordred advanced, eyes narrowed and staff swung high. Another swish, and the firebender flew backwards, which had the benefit of slightly extinguishing the flames.

Mordred rushed him, a maneuver so unlike an airbender that Elyan watched open-mouthed.

“Wait, Mordred---” he gasped, reaching out a hand. Faintly, from behind, he could hear more commotion coming from the trapdoor, but he hardly noticed.

The firebender had at last extinguished the flames, but he was not fast enough.

Mordred gave one last swipe with his glider, and the firebender flipped over, skidding helplessly---right over the edge of the airship.

* * *

Gwen had never fought a firebender before, and she hoped that she never would again. She thanked every god and spirit she could think of that Merlin was on their side as she ducked and weaved to avoid the powerful blasts coming her way. In these catwalks, neither she nor Percival had much in the way of defense against their two firebending opponents, other than his water-skin, sword, and the few rocks she had collected from the Air Temple.

She and Percival stood side-by-side, squeezed onto the narrow catwalk. Her opponent was a tall, dark-haired, yellow-eyed firebender who looked younger than any soldier Gwen had yet seen. He attacked ruthlessly.

The firebender punched out. Both Gwen and Percival dodged the blast. Gwen threw a chunk of earth at his leg, propelling it with her will, but he was faster than she had expected. She almost lost the rock to the wailing winds, but snatched it back as she stepped away to avoid another attack.

Her mind raced as sweat poured down her face from the heat and exertion, berating herself silently for never having Merlin teach them to fight firebenders.

Percival, strand of water in one hand and sword in the other, whipped his opponent on the hand. Even though his whip was just made of water, the firebender hissed and backed off. Percival took the advantage and pressed forward.

Then Gwen got an idea.

Hoping she would take her opponent by surprise, she darted towards him, rocks held in formation around her shoulders. The boy blinked and backed off, but kept slamming her with fireblasts . . . until she had moved so close he had no room to maneuver.

Gwen smiled tightly as they engaged in hand-to-hand combat. She was too close for him to firebend safely---he could just as easily burn himself. With her strength and endurance from blacksmithing, she was betting she could overpower him.

Gwen dodged a punch and kicked out, sweeping the firebender’s feet out from under him. His head knocked against the railing and then the catwalk with two loud thumps, and he did not move again. Gwen froze, wondering if he was knocked out or---

Intensely bright, hot light emanated from behind her, accompanied by an eerily familiar noise---the buzzing of bees. Gwen heard Percival yell. She turned just in time to see him fall to his knees, revealing a dark-haired, pale-skinned woman standing before them, two fingers outstretched like a salute.

Gwen knew immediately who this woman must be. Nimueh. The woman who had killed Cerdan and captured Arthur.

Gwen gathered earth around her and punched out quickly, but Nimueh blasted the rocks aside with an scorching red flame, cackling madly. As she came closer, Gwen could see herself reflected in the lightningbender’s blue eyes.

Percival’s opponent, bleeding and wary, came up behind them. Percival was only just starting to get to his feet, breathing heavily, and Gwen started to panic. She could not defend them on both fronts, not by herself.

Nimueh bore down on her, but before the soldier reached them he was knocked over by a blast of blue fire. Gwen and Nimueh watched as he fell down, down, down into the night.

His attacker was standing on the other catwalk, and Gwen felt her heart freeze as she looked at him.

“Not---possible,” she gasped. 

Dressed entirely in black, his teeth bared as he faced Nimueh, stood Cedric. However, that was not what gave Gwen pause, but his fiercely glowing white eyes.

Nimueh’s mouth hung open, but a gleam of triumph shone in her eyes. She raised her hand in invitation, and Cedric jetted towards her on blue flames. Gwen threw herself backwards onto Percival to shield him from the blast that resulted when the two benders crashed into each other.

“But---” Percival said, blinking blearily.

“I know.”

“He’s dead.”

“I know.”

“ _ He’s dead. _ ”

_ “I know.” _

“How---?”

“I don’t know. But he seems to be on our side.”

More soldiers poured down the ladders, yelling and rushing forward. Gwen saw the fear and surprise that lighted in their eyes when they saw Cedric and Nimueh.

“It’s him---” one of them gasped. “The Avatar.”

“But he can’t be,” Gwen moaned. “Mordred---Percy, what’s going on?”

Nimueh’s eyes were glinting. “At long last, the Avatar,” she gloated. “The time has come at last for you to reveal yourself and take your place by the Firelord!”

His back was to her, but Gwen saw Cedric’s hands curl into fists. It was so strange to see Cedric wearing something other than blue, but his black-clad shoulders shook with---what? She could not see his face to tell.

“My time?” he said, and Gwen gasped at his voice. The smug, oily tone was gone, replaced by the sound of many voices, as if there were a thousand people trapped in his body, all speaking as one. “My time never left, Nimueh. I will  _ always _ be here, unchanging, immortal, undying. But your time? Well . . .”

Nimueh’s eyes narrowed, her lips pressing further together. Even as Cedric’s multi-layered voice trailed to a suggestive stop, she struck.

Merlin had once told her that firebenders were all the more deadly when they were burning with anger. Nimueh’s blast was more than Cedric was prepared for; he flew backwards and landed hard on his back. He was not the only thing shaken, however: the entire airship shuddered, and Gwen was forced to grab onto the railing to avoid being thrown to her knees.

Cedric---or whoever he was---was far from bested, however. Even before he rolled to his feet, he sent a jet of air whirling down the catwalk, catching Nimueh in the stomach and throwing her against the back wall. She rolled to her feet and responded with a blast of red fire of such uncontrollable force that Gwen was forced to flatten herself against the ground to avoid being singed.

“We need to get out of here,” she muttered to Percival. He nodded, his face pale and his breathing shaky, still clutching at the smoking wound in his side.

“Where, though?” he wondered, looking around. Their way forward was blocked by the battle raging between the two powerful benders, while the way back was swarming with Fire Nation soldiers. The soldiers were hanging back for now, clearly having no interest in going any closer to Nimueh and her mysterious opponent than they had to, but that could change at any moment.

Gwen could feel the catwalk shuddering and shaking at every new blow from the battle, and she was uncomfortably aware that the fragile construct of metal and air was the only thing standing between them and a long plummet to the cold sea hundreds of feet below.

“We have to move fast, whatever it is we do,” Percival said, echoing her thoughts.

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than a gout of blue fire, propelled by Cedric’s feet, knocked Nimueh off her feet and rocked the airship once again, the metal around them groaning ominously.

Another figure came sliding down the shaking ladder. He was so different from the Fire Nation soldiers that Gwen stared. He was dressed from head to toe in shiny metal armor, a surcoat of rich browns and greens draped over the top. A tan square, the symbol of the Earth Kingdom, was stitched to the front of the surcoat.

A metalbender! Gwen had only met a few metalbenders before, all poor, lower-class blacksmiths like Elyan. This man was far more polished than a self-taught blacksmith, however. He did not so much as glance in Gwen and Percival’s direction as he stalked towards the fight between Nimueh and Cedric.

“Gwen---we need to move!” Percival jerked on her arm, his face screwed in pain as he pulled on her, but she could not tear her eyes away from the titanic struggle between the firebender and the---what? Avatar?

Nimueh was throwing blast after blast after Cedric as he dodged from side-to-side. He had pulled water from somewhere and was nipping at her ankles whenever he could get close enough.

A long strand of water flailed over his head and sheared through the chains that held one of the catwalks suspended to the airship. Gwen gasped. The catwalk groaned, held steady for a second---then collapsed.

Soldiers scattered, crying out in fear, as the once-firm footing vanished from under them. Most of them made it---others were not so lucky. Gwen watched in fascinated horror as the flailing bodies disappearing towards the raging grey water below.

The firebender that she had knocked out earlier was beginning to stir, just as the catwalk shifted underneath him and began to bend. Only half-conscious, he slipped backwards on the metal, his young face contorting with fear. Flames flickered on his fingertips, but he was still too shaken to bend.

“Wait---” Gwen pulled her arm out of Percival's grip and ran forward, hands outstretched---she could make it---she was too far away---she wasn't going to make it---

Gwen slid forward on her stomach, barely catching the man's wrist before he plummeted to his death. Her shoulder wrenched in its socket, but she held firm: she had carried heavier weights than this young one.

Percival limped over as she struggled to drag the firebender up, taking hold of her waist and arm. He was too weak to help much, but together they were able to hoist the soldier up onto the catwalk.

He was trembling mightily. “Th---thank you,” he gasped, clutching his arm where it had jolted. “You---you saved my life.”

“Gwen!”

Percival’s warning was just in time. Fire blasted past Gwen's ear and she flinched away, clinging to the railing so she would not fall. Another soldier stood behind them, face set. Gwen struggled against her aching muscles to stand and face him, but something cold yanked her back down.

It took a second for her to comprehend that the soldier she had just saved had latched a manacle around her wrist. He pushed her down and grabbed her other wrist to latch that as well.

There was a brief, titanic struggle. Percival fought with the other soldier.

In the end, the young soldier won: he locked the other manacle. Gwen had ended up with her face smushed against the metal grating and could not even yell at him. She could see the other soldier had punched Percival right in his wound and was locking him up as well.

“I’m sorry,” the soldier said. “It’s my duty...” He trailed off, looking confused.

A clanging nearby caught their attention.The metalbender, hauling himself up the tilted catwalk by jamming his fingers into the metal, had reached solid ground. He yanked a uselessly dangling chain from the catwalk and stood up, his expression murderous.

The chains melted together into a single spear of liquid metal that shot towards Cedric.

Gwen shook the firebender off, sat up, and yelled for all she was worth. “Cedric! Look out!”

Cedric did not seem to hear her, but he turned in time anyway like he sensed vibrations through the air.

He stepped forward to meet the blow, his hands coming forward as if to protect himself. Gwen’s breath caught in her throat---surely nobody could take a blow like that and survive.

Just before the mass of twisted metal came into contact with his hands, it began to pool up as if it had hit an invisible wall. Cedric's arms whirled around, and the metal parted into tendrils all around him. His body weight shifted back, shooting the mass under his arm and back again towards his opponent with lightning speed.

“He can bend  _ metal, _ too?” Percival's strained voice was full of amazement and envy. The two soldiers stood with mouths wide open.

The metalbender, as shocked as he was, barely moved away in time.

Cedric’s face twisted in amusement. “You think can frighten me? I was there when metalbending was invented!”

His hands stiffened like claws and the metal armor encasing the bender began to crumple like paper, piercing through his skin.

“Cedric, stop!” Gwen cried as the metalbender fell to his hands and knees, gasping for breath.

Cedric’s lip curled, but he released the bender and turned back to Nimueh.

“We need---we need to get out of here,” the soldier holding Percival gasped. The last remaining ladder was, however uncomfortably close to Cedric. 

Nimueh’s hair whirled around her face in the hot breeze from the fire, eyes wide and crazed.

“You might be able to take on a lump of metal,” she sneered. “Let's see how you do against lightning.”

Raising her arms, she spun around in a complicated dance, lightning trailing in the air around her fingers. Cedric, white eyes flashing, strode forward with no evidence of fear on his face. Lightning streaked down the catwalk, quicker than thought, quicker than Gwen’s eyes could follow it. Nimueh’s smirk widened to a grin as she imagined victory over the Avatar himself.

A blinding flash and deafening clap, and Gwen felt for sure that Cedric was done for---for good this time---but then she saw the lightning connecting with his fingers; he was drawing the lightning towards him, connecting his two hands close to his core, bringing his other hand up towards the lightningbender again. She heard Percival gasp. It was an astonishingly like something a waterbender  _ would _ do: instead of fighting the lightning and inevitably losing, Cedric was moving with it, allowing it to pass clean through him and out the other side.

Nimueh’s eyes widened as the lightning streaked back at her, but she was not prepared. Gwen, Percival, and the remaining soldiers shrank away as she screamed, her limbs shaking from the strain. Nimueh fell to the grate and rolled uncontrollably---

Cedric only released the stream of lightning when she was falling, her body smoking and twisting helplessly through the air.

No one moved or spoke.

Cedric turned around abruptly. One soldier took a quick step back, and Cedric smiled thinly. It was an unpleasant smile, one that Gwen had never seen on his face before.

The soldier turned and scrambled up the ladder. Cedric darted after him, a spider chasing a fly.

“Cedric!” Gwen gasped, struggling against her cursing captor. “Cedric, wait!” He was just going to leave them, locked in the arms of the Fire Nation?

He paused and turned slowly. “Why do you call me that?” he whispered, turning his white eyes on her, multi-layered voice whipping through the air on the night wind. “My name is  _ not _ Cedric.”

“Then who are you?” the young soldier holding Gwen asked. He clutched her arm tightly, like a child clinging to his mother. She could feel him trembling.

Another thin smile, this one even more unpleasant than the first. Gwen knew the impossible answer before he even responded. “I am Cornelius Sigan.”

He turned and slipped up the ladder, quick as thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on the next chapter right now :) Since I have more time, hopefully it won't take as long as this one has. Thank you for your patience, and I would love to know what you think about this chapter! Kudos to you if you've already figured out what's going on, but if you haven't, don't worry: I have a plan!


	23. The Avatar and the Firelord

Arthur yelled at his cell door for what must have been a half an hour after the fighting started. Even through the thick metal walls, he could hear metal shearing, flames blasting, and people shouting. He yanked futilely at the chains holding him down, earning himself even more bruises and cuts.

“Spirits above, what is taking all of you so long?” he muttered, glaring at the door. In his mind’s eyes, he was seeing Gwen surrounded by firebenders---Merlin facing off against his old firebending master---

That only served to make him more anxious as he waited.

For a few moments, an eerie silence descended on the airship, and he could hear guards outside his cell, talking in nervous whispers. So, they were determined to defend their prisoner to the last. Well, they hadn’t met his friends.

Arthur pulled himself as close to the door as he could, straining to hear what was happening. Footsteps, racing along at a dead run, slammed against the metal floors, coming ever closer.

“Who goes there?” one of the guards demanded, and Arthur could imagine him coming to attention, hands raising in bending form, perhaps shaking as he imagined exactly what kind of bending master might be coming for him.

Whoever approached yelled: “Run!”

That was all he said. Arthur did not recognize his voice.

There was a moment of near silence, and the Fire Prince imagined the guards were looking at each other in confusion, or perhaps fear.

Then one of the guards said, quietly so Arthur barely caught it: “What. The---”

The ground shook and Arthur fell back, flinching at the tremendous sound of metal tearing. The guards were fighting outside, metal clanged, and bits of fire wisped under the door. Arthur pushed himself back against the wall.

The fighting did not last long, two minutes at the most. Silence fell again.

Someone groaned and whimpered like they were in terrible pain. They moaned, “No please, leave me alone . . . leave me be . . .”

Arthur’s eyes widened. “Merlin,” he muttered, then lunged forward again. “Merlin! Merlin! I’m in here! Are you alright?”

No answer.

“Merlin!”

No answer. For a second, Arthur could not breathe.

Something slammed against the door to his cell, and he flinched back. The metal creaked and strained. Arthur gulped. Had it really been Merlin out there? What had they done to him?

In one swift wrench, the door to Arthur’s cell came off its hinges. The person who had pulled it off tossed it to the side like so much discarded paper.

Arthur backed up until he hit the cell wall. “Great spirits . . .”

Merlin stood there, clad in his red Fire Nation uniform, torn, bruised, beaten, singed, breathing hard, looking about ready to keel over from exhaustion.

His eyes were glowing white.

Just like Arthur had always been taught the Avatar’s did.

Merlin took an unsteady step forward, and then he really  _ did _ keel over, falling flat on his face at Arthur’s feet with no attempt to stop it.

More shouts and running. People were coming.

“Merlin?” Arthur gasped. “Merlin? Is that you?”

Merlin raised his head with a groan. To Arthur’s infinite relief, his eyes were blue again, if drooping and red-rimmed. He did not look like he was capable of standing.

“Arthur . . .” Merlin’s voice was breathy and faint. “I’m so sorry---”

His head went down again right as three Fire Nation soldiers rushed into the cell, fists and weapons raised. The first one, his arm looking much healed, was Merlin’s old Fire Nation partner, Thomas.

Arthur could not speak as Thomas bent down and turned Merlin over on his back. “Merlin, what have you done?” Thomas snapped, looking for all the world like a father scolding his young son.

Merlin blinked up at him, but did not speak.

“What---what’s going on?” Arthur gasped. He felt like someone had thrown a wrench into the spokes of his brain, and no matter how he tried to make sense of the situation his mind would not accept what he saw.

Thomas ignored him. “My lady, it’s safe!”

A gust of cold wind and rotten smell made Arthur cough. He looked up to see a spirit, tall with black eyes and eerily floating hair. “I don’t need your protection, firebender,” the woman hissed, pressing her way closer to Merlin, prone on the ground.

Two of the guards shifted away from her. Thomas would not meet her eyes, but he did not rise from his crouch at Merlin’s side.

“He’s tired himself out,” the woman whispered, leaning over Merlin. His eyes were closed, but Arthur could tell he was still awake. “Finally, my plans come to fruition!” She waved at Thomas. “Take him to the cells. Treat him kindly, but make sure he doesn’t escape.”

“Who are you?” Arthur shouted, determined to make himself heard. “What plans? I demand you answer me!”

Her black eyes looked dead as she turned to him, and Arthur struggled to look at her steadily. “Why, I am Queen Mab. The queen of the Spirit World. I am only taking one of my subjects into my care.”

“Your subject---” Arthur sputtered, about to protest that  _ he _ was the true Firelord, thank you  _ very _ much, but then it hit him.

The Avatar was a spirit. She was the queen of the Spirit World.

“Please don’t hurt the others,” Merlin whispered. “Please . . .”

Mab shrugged. “I have no interest in the others, Avatar. Morgana will deal with them when we reach the Fire Nation. You are the only one I care about.”

The guards hauled Merlin to his feet, and Merlin struggled to loll his head around and look at Arthur. “I’m sorry, Arthur---I should have told you---I should have---”

Arthur stared. “You  _ knew? _ ” he gasped. _ “ _ You knew you were the Avatar?! Why didn’t you say anything?”

Merlin shuddered, but he did not get a chance to respond as the guards dragged him backwards from the cell.

* * *

“It would appear your rescue was a failure of epic proportions,” Arthur commented drily.

The guards moved him to a new, bigger cell with a sturdy door, and, one by one, brought the rescuing party in and chained them to the walls. Only Merlin and Elyan were missing: Merlin had been taken . . . elsewhere, and Elyan had been put in a special, metalbender-proof cell. Arthur felt pathetically glad to see Gwen mostly unharmed, but he did not say much as the others were brought in. His mind still reeled from what he had just witnessed.

He could not get the sneaking suspicion out of his head that the others had known and that this had been part of the plan all along.

“Arthur?” Gwen asked quietly as a bloodied Gwaine railed against their captors in the background. “Are you alright? Did they . . . did they hurt you?”

He looked up at her. Her hair was in total disarray, fluffing around her head in a way he might have found endearing at another time. She had cuts and bruises up and down her arms and feet. “I could ask you the same thing,” he managed to get out. The cell door slammed shut and Gwen leaned in closer.

“Not as bad as it could have been---Percival is worse---because you will  _ never guess _ who we saw!” It was obvious she had just been waiting for the guards to leave to say this. “Arthur, we saw Avatar Cornelius Sigan!”

The others in the cell turned to stare. “What?” Arthur said.  _ Sigan??? _ Could this night possibly get any more confusing?

Alator leaned forward. “You saw the Avatar?”

Percival, slumped against the wall, nodded. “We thought it was the Cedric at first, which is of course impossible. He was in the Avatar State, with his eyes glowing and everything, and he bent a whole bunch of elements and  _ he killed Nimueh _ !”

Mordred sat up straight. “He killed Nimueh?” He sounded disappointed, a feeling Arthur could definitely understand; he had been treasuring the idea of killing Nimueh himself.

“But . . . that doesn’t make any sense!” Arthur burst out. “ _ Sigan? _ He’s dead!”

“This might actually make sense,” Alator corrected. His brow scrunched. “I’ve read that Avatars can take on the appearance of their previous incarnations. It usually only happens when they are young and untrained, however . . .” He trailed off, looking troubled.

“But I didn’t go into the Avatar State,” Mordred countered. “I definitely would have noticed that. Elyan and I were attacked and captured pretty quickly.”

“It wasn’t you,” Arthur and Lancelot both responded at the same time.

For a moment, Fire Prince and airbender looked at each other. Arthur felt numb as he stated, “You saw him.”

Lancelot nodded slowly. “I was with him when he . . . changed.”

“He tried to rescue me,” Arthur said, barely knowing what he was saying. A part of him had still been hoping he had imagined it all. “Pulled the metal door right off its hinges, but he was injured. They took him away. I don’t know where.”

The others looked between Arthur and Lancelot with open mouths. “Uh, who?” Gwaine asked. “Weren’t you with Merlin?”

Lancelot swallowed. “Yes.”

“It was Merlin,” Arthur said slowly. “I didn’t see Sigan, but I saw him. His eyes were glowing white, just like you said.”

“Merlin?” Gwen repeated, her mouth hanging slightly open. “But . . .”

“Merlin’s the Avatar?” Alator breathed. “How old is he? About, twenty-five years or so?” Arthur shrugged helplessly. “That makes sense.”

“How does that make sense?” Mordred butted in. “Not to sound arrogant or anything, but  _ I’m _ the Avatar.”

There was an uncomfortable pause where everyone looked at Alator and Alator looked at no one.

“At least,” Mordred continued slowly, his eyes narrowing, “that’s what you always  _ told _ me.”

Alator opened his mouth and closed it again. Arthur could only imagine he had been preparing for years for this moment, only to find he was not truly prepared.

“It’s not the airbending way, to lie,” Alator whispered, still avoiding Mordred’s eyes. “But it was the only thing we could think of to do.”

“What do you mean?” Mordred’s voice was hard but strained.

“It was the only way to stop Uther.” Alatar finally looked at Mordred, his expression pleading for understanding.

Arthur clenched his jaw. “The Little Purge,” he ground out, and Alator nodded in relief.

“Uther was slaughtering benders by the hundreds, killing  _ children _ . All we could do was tell him the Avatar had been found in our nation, that he had been reborn.”

Mordred shook his head. “Uther died years ago! Why keep up the charade? Why lie to me?”

Alator leaned forward now, as if proximity would make Mordred believe him. “The Air Nation has no military, no way to defend itself. Saying we had the Avatar was the only thing keeping Morgana from tearing our Temple apart. I am sorry we lied to you---”

“No, you don’t get to be sorry!” Mordred burst out. “My father died defending  _ the Avatar _ from Nimueh! He died for nothing!”

“He---he didn't die for nothing, Mordred!” Gwen joined in. “He died protecting you!”

“He died protecting a lie!” Mordred hissed. Tears fell from his eyes and he turned away sharply.

“Cerdan knew what he was doing,” Alator murmured. “He knew the truth. One of the few who did.”

“The Head Monks knew?” Lancelot asked grimly, his lips pressed together. Alator nodded.

“Iseldir, Edwin, Cailleach, and I knew, along with a few select others. It was kept quiet. We were hoping the real Avatar would be revealed before we had to expose Mordred.”

Lancelot shook his head. “Merlin didn’t want to believe all you lied. That, and he just didn’t want to believe he was the Avatar.”

They all turned on him. “Hold up, you  _ knew _ ?” Gwaine demanded. It was hard to tell with blood obscuring half his face, but his tone suggested betrayal.

Arthur slumped against the wall. Merlin had told Lancelot, but not Arthur? It would seem he had trusted the Fire Prince much less than he had said he did.

“I  _ suspected _ ,” Lancelot insisted. “Neither of us knew for sure.”

“How long did you know?” Arthur ground out.

“I started to  _ suspect _ when we were in the Northern Water Tribe,” Lancelot said.

“The Northern---That was  _ weeks _ ago!”

Gwen leaned forward. “Arthur, please calm down! We all have questions here, and yelling isn’t going to help!”

He bit his tongue and leaned back again. Gwen turned to Lancelot, her eyebrows drawn together, little tears glittering unshed in her eyes. “Tell us what happened,” she ordered.

“We were attacked by wolves on our journey to the Spirit Portal,” Lancelot continued. “It was too cold for him to firebend. I wasn’t sure at the time, but I thought I saw him airbend at a wolf. He didn’t believe. Up until today, he has continued to deny it, despite evidence to the contrary.”

Percival sighed. “Of  _ course _ . That’s why the Lamia couldn’t possess him: he already had a spirit inside of him, and you can’t be possessed by two spirits at once.” He rubbed his eyes against his shoulder jerkily, chains clinking. “I feel like such a fool. I even  _ saw _ his eyes turn white for a moment, when the Lamia left his body, but I dismissed it as a trick of the light.”

Arthur ground his teeth. “Why did neither of you say anything? Even if he wasn’t convinced,  _ you _ don’t seem very surprised.”

Lancelot looked Arthur straight in the face, his expression pleading for understanding. “It wasn’t my secret to tell, Arthur, even if I had been sure.”

“You could have said something!”

“And what about Merlin? If he didn't believe it, where would we have been? He was never going to learn to bend the other elements until he believed it himself!”

Arthur sputtered. “We just  _ saw _ him bend other elements! Just now! Obviously he can  _ do _ it, he---”

“Arthur, stop!”

He jerked his sentence off at Gwen’s yell. They all turned to look at her.

“That person we all saw,” she whispered, her breathing quick, “may have been Merlin on the inside, but it was Sigan controlling him. Merlin was not the one bending those elements.”

“Probably acted like Sigan as well,” Alator said. “Like I mentioned, this usually only happens when the Avatar is young and inexperienced. An Avatar trained in how to use the Avatar State would never let another Avatar take him over so completely. You say he almost destroyed the airship? And killed Nimueh? I don’t know Merlin very well, but that sounds like Sigan to me, not your friend.”

Unbidden, Arthur remembered Merlin moaning in the corridor before he had ripped the door off. It had sounded like he was talking with someone, begging to be left alone. Had he, perhaps, been talking to Sigan? Pleading to be left, pleading to not be the doer of even more destruction?

* * *

Merlin was too weak to even struggle as the guards dragged him into his own little cell. They argued for several minutes about how they were going to bind him (no ropes because he was a firebender, but no chains because he was a metalbender). They eventually settled on both.

Merlin let them do it, but he jerked back when they brought the mask out.

“No, no, not that!” he gasped, cringing away as the soldier brought it closer.

Thomas held his right arm tightly. “You know how this works, Merlin. We can’t leave a firebending prisoner without a mask on.”

The metal mask was one-size-fits-all. It pinched Merlin’ sharp cheekbones but hung too loose on the rest of his slim face.

Queen Mab watched in satisfaction. She had shrunk down again into her normal, non-threatening pose, but she still towered over Merlin, helplessly squirming on the floor.

“How far you have fallen, Raava,” the queen muttered. “I told you not to associate with that human: he has dragged you down to his level, now.”

Merlin did not say anything. He had no clue who Raava was, and Mab offered no explanation.

“What are you going to do with the others?” he rasped.

Mab raised a blonde eyebrow. “I’m not going to do anything with them. They can rot in that cell for all I care. When we reach the Fire Nation tomorrow, the Firelord will decide what to do with them.” She leaned closer. “Now, you, on the other hand . . . I have many plans for you. Take a good long rest; it’s the last you’ll get for a while.”

She wisped around and floated through the cell door, a little smile playing on her lips like she was thinking of something pleasant.

Only Thomas turned back to look at him. Usually his emotions were like an open book, but Merlin’s exhaustion made the other firebender’s face unreadable.

Merlin lay there for a long time, perhaps hours, breathing heavily into the mask. His wrists ached from the manacles and chafed from the ropes. He could see, through the slits in the metal wall, the sky growing lighter as the sun reached towards the horizon.

Reaching the Fire Nation  _ tomorrow _ . Which, at this point, would be sometimes later today. It had only been a few weeks since he had left the palace and landed in Ba Sing Se, but it felt like forever. He closed his eyes and pictured the extinct volcano rising up from the valleys below, villages dotting its slopes, the great Fire Nation capital nestled inside the caldera. His mind wandered through the passages of the city, drifting through the barracks he had lived in for two years, the throne room, lit with red flames, the council room where he had knelt and relayed report after report to Morgana. And the courtyard, where he had witnessed too many executions.

Merlin’s eyes leapt open. He suspected that he would be kept alive. Morgana and Mab would not have gone to so much trouble to capture him only to kill him, but the others? He was going to get his friends killed. He had gotten Arthur into this. He had gotten Gwen and the others into this. Morgana would not have mercy on them, not after everything.

Morgana’s temper had always been sharp; she was the poster child for a firebender’s personality, really. He had been scolded by her more than once in his time in the Fire Nation, but he also believed she held a soft spot for him. They were around the same age, with the same level of bending ability, and he liked to think he was not entirely unattractive. Sometimes, during the council meetings and feasts he had attended, he found Morgana looking at him out of the corner of her eye. He would always look away, blushing, but she never seemed ashamed to have been caught staring. At times, Morgana had sought him out, even called him to her study for a chat. She had disguised this behind a veneer of keeping her firebenders loyal, but she never did with any of the others. Just him.

They had talked about their families. Their pasts. Their futures. He had been careful about what he told her, but Morgana had disclosed some very private things to him, things he wasn’t sure even Morgause knew. She had trusted him.

Merlin shuddered. He wondered if even Mab would be able to keep Morgana from tearing him apart. As it was, there was probably no hope for the others. They would executed in a public, cruel manner, just as others had been executed before.

Merlin let out a shuddering sigh and bowed his head, struggling to hold back tears. He was such a fool. He should have told Arthur about his suspicions. Even if they had turned out to be wrong, it would surely have been better than  _ this _ .

Something touched his shoulder. Merlin jerked away, inasmuch as he could chained hand, foot, and mouth.

An old man crouched at his side, clean-shaven, with brilliant blue eyes. He wore a simple white robe with a hood pulled over his face.

“Merlin,” the man murmured. “Don’t be afraid.”

Merlin drew in a breath. “Who are you?” There was something familiar about his large nose.

The man cocked his head. “You don’t know me?”

A guard walked past at that moment. He merely raised an eyebrow at Merlin’s awkward position and kept walking. Merlin watched him go with furled brows.

“You’re a spirit . . .” he murmured, and took a closer look. The man was, now that he was looking, blurry around the edges and slightly see-through. “You’re---”

He remembered where he had seen the man before. In the statue room of the Western Air Temple. “You’re Avatar Anhora.”

The Earth Kingdom Avatar nodded. “I am. When I died, twenty-five years ago, Uther was only just beginning his Purge. I left when the world was falling apart.” He bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”

Merlin swallowed. He was talking with Avatar Anhora. It was cool. He was cool. He’d talked with dragons, for spirits’ sake! He could do this.

“Um, that's ok. Most people can’t really help dying, you know.”

He sat up a little more, then froze. “Wait, if you’re here, does that mean other Avatars will come as well? Does that mean---”

His breathing echoed loudly in the mask. Anhora shook his head.

“It’s only me. Sigan took advantage of your moment of weakness.” He gave Merlin a stern look. “You would do well to never give him that kind of control again. You haven't had the training I have, but from the time I was informed of my status as the Avatar at the age of sixteen I was warned about Sigan. You must be careful about him.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Merlin muttered, then slumped back against the wall. “How are you here then, if he’s not?”

Anhora settled on the floor next to him. “It’s often at our lowest points that we are open to the greatest change,” he said. “You’ve been denying your Avatar heritage all these years. You refused to learn, to prepare. That blocked us out, and when you did go into the Avatar State, Sigan was the first at the helm. Now, you’re open. You're ready to learn.”

Merlin huffed. “Too little, too late, it would seem. Unless you know how to get these chains off me?”

Anhora frowned. “Sigan was the first metalbending Avatar, and I never learned. My skills are with plants and animals, which will not help you here.”

“So you can't help me escape,” Merlin translated flatly. “Why did you come? I  _ can’t _ go into the Avatar State, not again!” His voice trembled. “We’re heading to the Fire Nation, now. It's my fault. If I had never chased after Arthur, he would be safe in the Earth Kingdom!”

Anhora clasped Merlin’s shoulder. “If I learned anything as the Avatar, it is that nothing is an accident. You were led to Arthur. You were meant to find him.”

Merlin huffed again, the sound strange and muffled behind the mask. “Led by whom?”

Anhora pursed his lips. “I wonder…” he said. “I don’t have all the answers, and I can only converse with you. You’ll have to find those answers for yourself.”

Merlin sighed. “Thanks, I guess. Glad you could come provide emotional support, because by the time I figure out how to remove these chains, we’ll all be dead.”

Anhora raised an eyebrow. “Do you know how to spirit travel?” he asked abruptly.

Merlin blinked. “No. Not a commonly taught firebending skill. Takes too much calm and poise, neither of which were encouraged by Nimueh.”

The former Avatar sighed. “I suppose I’ll just have to teach you then,” he muttered, then settled into a cross-legged position on the floor. “We have little time, but I will work with whatever you give me. Close your eyes. I don’t suppose we’ll make it on the first try, but I am going to teach you how to travel to the Spirit World for a few answers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Books One and Two of ATLA, Aang is possessed by the spirits of both Roku and Kyoshi, in Winter Solstice Part II, The Deserter, and Avatar Day. Just thought I would bring that back :)


	24. The Fire Nation

The sun was kissing the extinct volcano’s edge when the airship landed in the Fire Nation capitol. The guards hustled Elyan over to join their group, but Merlin was nowhere to be seen. Arthur found he was trembling, just slightly, as the guards bound their hands behind their backs and urged them towards the gangplank.

It had been five years since he left the Fire Nation. The airship yard did not look any different. Cluttered by boxes, bags, and balloons, with dark buildings, cobblestones, and red flags, volcanoes rising on every side.

Arthur’s breath caught when he saw who was waiting for them at the bottom of the gangplank.

Morgana looked as beautiful as ever; dark-haired, green-eyed, resplendent in the finery of a Firelord. She stood tall and proud, looking just as she had when Arthur had seen her last. Her eyes skipped around their group, from Gwen to Gwaine to Percival, finally resting on Arthur.

Morgause stood by her side, teeth clenched as she and Gwaine glared holes into each other.

Morgana raised a manicured eyebrow as they came into view. “Welcome to the Fire Nation,” she said, her soft, cultured voice echoing in the yard. “I understand it’s the first time for many of you. We welcome benders of any kind to our shores; it’s unfortunate you couldn’t’ve come under better circumstances.”

Arthur couldn’t see them, but he imagined Gwen and Elyan exchanging confused glances behind him, wondering where Morgana was going with  _ that _ comment. He felt a stirring of hope inside of him: Perhaps Morgana would let the others go?

A clink, a clatter, and a curse came from behind them, and the group instinctively looked back up the gangplank. Gwen gave a low gasp.

The guards were leading Merlin down the gangplank, chained hand and foot. Arthur was revolted to see the metal mask his father had used with firebenders bolted around Merlin’s face. Lancelot’s mouth hung open. Gwaine’s eyes narrowed, and he struggled for a second in Merlin’s direction.

Arthur found he could not look at Merlin. He was horrified that his stupidity had gotten Gwen and others captured, but Merlin? If Merlin died, the whole world could be doomed.

Why had Arthur tried to face Nimueh alone? He closed his eyes and turned away.

Morgana’s jaw clenched as the guards pulled Merlin to a halt next to the other prisoners. It took Merlin a couple seconds to raise his eyes to Morgana’s, but he managed it, eyes filled with defiance and fear. Morgana’s mouth twisted and she seemed to force her eyes away from the Avatar. She continued, now staring at Arthur again: “However, anyone who fights against the Fire Nation is considered an enemy of the Fire Nation, and will be treated as such.” Her eyes flickered back over to Merlin. “ _ Especially _ traitors.”

Arthur’s hopes plummeted again. He wondered if, should it come to it, he would have the humility to beg for his friends’ lives.

Morgana turned imperiously to Thomas. “Take them to the dunge---”

A crack of thunder broke through her order. Everyone instinctively flinched. Merlin almost fell over as he tried to twitch into a firebending stance that was completely unfeasible while chained and had to be caught by his guards.

Figures clad in black came from every side, sliding from behind boxes and out of balloon baskets. Most carried swords and other weapons, but some attacked with fire and lightning.

It took Arthur a second to realize the attackers were targeting the Fire Nation soldiers. By the time the Fire Prince had come to this realization, Gwaine had already elbowed his guard in the stomach and roundhouse kicked another in the face. Gwen grabbed Arthur’s elbow in her bound hands as their guards engaged a few attackers and gasped out, “Run!”

Morgana and Morgause snapped into action. Arthur had never had much opportunity to see Morgana firebend: she blasted one attacker back, almost scorching Thomas in the meantime, and then really did nick one of her own soldiers in another swipe. The difference between Merlin’s careful, focused blasts and her wide, wild swings was obvious.

One of the attackers, a woman with thick gray hair, got through to Arthur. “Prince Arthur!” she cried. “We’ve come to rescue you! Come with me!”

Arthur was dumbfounded. She was a  _ firebender. Rescuing him. _

Again, he reminded himself. Merlin had done it too.

He resisted her pulling hand to look back. Elyan fought on, and Alator leapt in all directions, but Gwaine lay on his side, unmoving. Percival, forced into a crouch next to him, was yelling his name to no response. Merlin, almost completely immobilized, struggled to free himself helplessly.

Mordred was nowhere to be seen.

He met Gwen’s eyes and knew she was thinking the same thing. They would stay with their friends even if it meant death.

“Help us rescue the others,” he told the firebender.

“No! It’s you---”

She gasped like she had been punched, her eyes widening. Arthur stumbled back as she fell.

Thomas had grabbed a knife from his fallen opponent and thrown it, catching her high in the back. He sprinted towards Arthur and Gwen, lips curling in hatred.

Gwen raised her foot and brought it down. The ground erupted under her, splitting in Thomas’ direction---but he had already jumped, vaulting over the rubble to throw a blast of flame directly down on Arthur and Gwen.

Arthur threw himself into Gwen, pushing her out of the way. The flames barely missed them and Arthur gasped from the heat and smoke. Thomas landed and swung around to blast them again---

\---only to be forced to block another gout of flames from Morgana.

“ _ Back _ , Collins!” she commanded.

The fight was over as suddenly as it started. The attackers were either dead or held in bondage. Alator struggled against Morgause’s bloodbending. Guards were pulling Gwaine roughly to his feet: it looked like one of his wounds from the day before had reopened.

Arthur clenched his fists. If only he had a weapon . . . he might be able to take Morgana.

Thomas had clenched his teeth. “My lady, these prisoners are more trouble than they’re worth. If we deal with them now---”

“Would you like to go into the dungeons  _ with _ them, Collins?” Morgana hissed, her green eyes flashing. “You are  _ not _ the only one with grievances against Arthur Pendragon. He will be publicly executed---like he deserves.”

“Like I deserve?” Arthur took a step closer to his half-sister even as guards closed in around him. “Perhaps we should talk about what  _ you’ve _ done, Morgana!”

She scoffed. “Me? All I’ve done has been for the good of the Fire Nation! For the benefit of all benders!”

“Perhaps you should tell that to the people in the Earth Kingdom,” Arthur retorted, his voice rising. “I’m not sure they believe you want to help  _ all benders _ yet. Maybe you just need to say it louder---perhaps with a couple more airships filled with soldiers!”

Flames literally blew from Morgana’s nostrils. “Don’t you preach at me, Pendragon! Your father murdered thousands of benders in this very palace! You went out and found those benders to be executed.”

A long familiar pang of shame filled Arthur, but he did not back down. “I was wrong. Our father was wrong---”

“ _ Our  _ father?” Morgana demanded. The guards exchanged nervous looks. “Uther was no father of mine! I have renounced him, just as I killed him.”

“Yet you become more like him everyday,” Arthur remarked.

Morgana leaned back, her mouth falling open. For a moment, nobody spoke.

Carefully, Morgana smoothed the front of her mussed robes. “Take them to the dungeons,” she said, slowly and clearly. “All of them---excepting the Avatar---will be executed in the morning.”

“Let the others go,” Arthur snapped. “They are defending their  _ own _ lands and freedoms, Morgana, lands you have violated---”

She ignored him, simply spoke louder. “Where is the other airbender? Wasn’t there another one? A boy?”

Everyone looked around, but there was no answer. Alator pressed his lips together and looked at the ground. Merlin, still lying on the ground, unable to rise, looked between Arthur and Morgana with what might have been tears in his eyes.

Arthur scowled. He should have expected Mordred to run. Perhaps Alator had given him another chance at life. It would probably be too much to ask that he come back to help them.

“The airbender doesn’t matter,” Morgana said. “Guards, you have your orders. Get them out of my sight!”

* * *

The guards removed their chains after dumping them in the cell. Once again, Merlin and Elyan were taken elsewhere. Arthur and Merlin met eyes all of one time on the walk down into the depths of the prison. Arthur’s heart lurched with guilt and he looked away quickly.

The cell was of the kind Arthur had become familiar with during his six months as a prisoner in the Fire Nation: walls of rough-hewn stone, solid metal bars, one tiny window with a  _ beautiful _ view of the barracks’ walls.

Gwaine stumbled into the wall when his guards untied him. Percival struggled against his bonds and rushed over to his cousin as soon as he was released. The wound on the side of Gwaine’s face was once again bleeding.

“What about Gwaine?” Arthur demanded as the guards turned to leave. “Get us a physician---something!”

The guards shrugged. “He’s going to die tomorrow anyway,” one of them muttered, and locked the door.

Percival stripped his tunic off and pressed it against Gwaine’s head. “You’re going to be the death of me one of these days if you’re not careful,” he moaned.

Gwaine huffed softly. “Didn’t know you cared about an old Southie like me.”

Percival rolled his eyes and said nothing.

After making sure Gwaine would not slip quietly away in the night (as far as they could know that without professional medical help) Arthur slumped to the ground next to Gwen, rubbing the places where the ropes had chafed him. She put a steady hand on his arm.

Arthur put his hand over hers. He had a sudden desire to kiss her---not an unfamiliar feeling of course, but in the face of certain death it felt cheap, like he wasn’t desiring it for the right reasons.

Arthur glanced around the cell at the others, wondering what they were thinking. Lancelot, his gaze dropping down to his right hand, must surely be thinking of Elena. Maybe Alator was thinking of the Air Nation that had no military, that would surely be the first nation to fall if Morgana attacked, or of Mordred. Percival and Gwaine were perhaps thinking of the Water Tribes and their families. He wondered if Elyan was thinking of Gwen, of their home in Ba Sing Se, of their abandoned shop. And Merlin? He would surely be thinking of his parents and brother.

“Thank you for standing up for us,” Gwen murmured. “It was brave of you to say those things to her.”

Arthur shrugged, misery and dread filling him from head to toe. “It didn’t make a difference. She’s still going to kill all of you.”

Gwen looked him in the eye. “It made a difference to me.”

She took a shuddering breath and wrapped her arms around Arthur, pressing into his side and resting her head on his shoulder. Carefully, he put his arms around her shoulders and squeezed---perhaps tighter than was comfortable for her. They sat there for a long time. After a while, Gwen’s breathing evened out and her body relaxed, but it was hours after that when Arthur finally fell asleep.

* * *

Arthur would not even look at Merlin. He supposed he should not be surprised. Arthur probably felt incredibly betrayed by Merlin’s silence. Still, Merlin would have preferred hateful glances to the Fire Prince’s total avoidance of eye contact. He wondered if he could ever gain back Arthur’s trust.

Morgana’s insistence that he, the Avatar, would not be executed filled him with dread. Merlin had not seen Queen Mab since she had dropped him off in the airship’s cell, but her vague references towards some kind of plan for Merlin chilled him to the bone.

He also wondered at the group that had tried to rescue them just now. One of Merlin’s guards had gasped, right before an attacker had stabbed him, two words that Merlin did not understand. He had said, “White Lotus!”

Was that the name of the group? Merlin thought the name “White Lotus” sounded familiar. Perhaps he had heard Gaius say it somewhere?

He barely noticed when the guards removed his chains and put other, lighter ones on him.

“Don’t try to metalbend these ones,” Thomas warned. “They’re made of platinum, so your metalbending won’t work.”

“Unnecessary, if you ask me,” Merlin commented, trying to sound light and unaffected. “I don’t know how to metalbend. Yet, anyway. I  _ could _ learn at any moment.”

They left the chains and mask on. 

“You can’t take this off?” Merlin pleaded with Thomas, shaking his head in his former friend’s direction. “You  _ know _ I can’t breathe fire.”

Strictly speaking, Merlin could, but why share that? Thomas just gave him a hard look and shook his head without speaking.

Merlin eyed him. Thomas had been there for him for the past two years. They had cleaned each others’ wounds after particularly hard training sessions with Nimueh, talked long into the night, snuck into the kitchens together, and fought together. He had seen Thomas attempt to murder Arthur and Gwen and wondered at this side of his old friend. He knew Thomas’ mother had been executed by Uther.

“You all are making a big mistake,” he murmured. “Arthur is a good man. You should give him a chance.”

Thomas got this look on his face like he wanted to hit something, but he did not even look up. “Let’s go,” he snapped at the guards, and they stamped out of the cell, slamming the door behind them.

Merlin sighed and settled into a comfortable sitting position against the wall. The chains on his legs made it impossible to cross them, but he did what he could. These chains, at least, were lighter than the other ones, and not as constricting. Thomas’ warning that Merlin shouldn’t try metalbending had come a little late: he had been trying to metalbend the other chains they had him in, to no effect.

There was nothing to it. Traveling into the Spirit World for help was his only chance, at this point. The sun had already set, so execution morning was only hours away. Unfortunately, Anhora’s vague instructions on how to meditate into the Spirit World had not worked so far.

Merlin did not know how long he sat there, breath whistling in and out around the mask, muscles tightening and relaxing, tightening and relaxing. Thoughts of Arthur, Gwen, and the others invaded his mind. He could not get the images of all the executions he had seen out of his head.

“Come on, Merlin,” he whispered, trying to ignore the guards laughing and talking just around the corner from his cell. He was struck with memories of sneaking into the dungeons to play cards and dice with the bored guards.

A scream jolted him out of his reverie. With a gasp, he toppled over onto his back. It took some time to scramble onto his knees again.

Screaming and whimpering echoed through the caverns of the prison. Merlin dragged himself as close to the door as he could, straining to tell if the screamer was someone he knew.

The laughter from the guards had stopped.

“Terrible, terrible,” one of them whispered.

“One of those White Lotus people?” another one murmured.

“You know them. Pro-Pendragon leanings, I guess. One of the Prince’s supporters.”

“So? The Firelord’s a Pendragon, ain’t she?”

A chorus of  _ shhh! _ s echoed down the corridor, almost harmonizing with the weakening screams. “Don’t let her hear you say that. Done turned her back on that whole name, she has.”

“Maybe going to start using her mother’s name instead.”

“Who knows what’s going on in her head anymore.” A sigh. “This whole nation . . . Mind you, we were bad off when Uther was Firelord, but a part of me wonders if we ain’t much better now.”

“Watch your words, now! Be careful!”

The whispers went lower, out of Merlin’s range of hearing. He slumped back.

He wished Arthur had heard the conversation. Perhaps it would bring his moral and faith in his people back up.

Before he was killed, of course.

Merlin clenched his jaw. Maybe if he could spirit walk, he could get into contact with Elena or someone. He would  _ not  _ give up.

He settled back into his modified meditation position, rolled his neck a few times to loosen it, closed his eyes.

The sobbing from the prisoner, surprisingly, was good incentive for him. He could feel the tension leaving his body, seeming to flow from him to the ground and away with every breath he released.

His mind drifted, and he lost all awareness of his body. It felt like all those times he would jump off that cliff near his home into the water below---the sensation of water coming up fast, air whooshing past him, exhilaration. 

For a moment Merlin thought he had merely fallen asleep. He often had dreams of the hot, green, humid forest he had grown up in, and when he opened up his eyes he saw what looked like a clearing close to his home where he, Will, and the other village children had gone to play in their off hours.

Merlin felt a throb of disappointment. Another failure, and with only hours left.

Then he noticed a woman standing to his left, watching him curiously. She wore a pale yellow dress. Waves of golden hair tumbled around her round face.

For a moment they stared at each other. Her lips parted.

“ _ At last _ ,” she said, a breathtaking smile breaking across her face. “Food!”


	25. The Puppetmaster

Merlin stared at her for a second.  _ Food? _

He glanced down and realized his chains had vanished. He jumped to his feet, almost faceplanting in his enthusiasm.

Now that he took a closer look around, the clearing was nothing like the southern Earth Kingdom. The air was hot and humid, but the light was too sharp and bright to be anywhere natural. The plants were unusual as well.

Merlin turned around only to find the girl standing mere inches from him. He stumbled with a squawk. The slight smile on her face, combined with her earlier declaration, filled him with dread. Did some spirits actually eat humans?

“Who are you?” she breathed as he struggled to regain his dignity. “I thought I knew all the spirits here.”

“I’m, er, I’m not a spirit,” Merlin told her.

She raised an eyebrow. “Yes, you are.”

“Well, in that I have left my body behind, yes, I suppose I am a spirit,” he conceded. “But not like you.”

She raised a hand towards him. “You aren’t like me, true. You are a spirit and human bonded into one. Now, where have I heard of that before?”

Merlin felt a chill chase down his spine. Of course. How could he have forgotten. “Oh, you mean the Avatar spirit?” he asked, his voice trembling.

A slow smile grew on her face. “Yes. That’s the one. Raava.”

Merlin tilted his head. “That’s the third time I’ve heard that name,” he murmured. “Is Raava---?”

“The name of your spirit?” she inquired. “Why, yes! I didn’t know you were so ill-informed!” She twirled a strand of golden hair around her finger. “My name is Sophia. What’s yours? Perhaps I can help educate you.”

Merlin swallowed. “Uh, that’s alright. I’ll survive.”

“You sure?” Sophia asked. “I served in the court of Queen Mab herself! I know many things other spirits don’t.”

Merlin wasn’t sure if she could have said anything that could make him want to get away from her faster. He backed away. “Nope, really, just looking around!”

Was he imagining the red glint in her eyes? “Why? What’s wrong with me? I mean, sure, I was fired from my job and banished from her court, but really---what’s not to like about me?”

“No---nothing---I mean everything---wait, nothing---” he insisted. “I’m just in a hurry, that all! No time for a history lesson.”

Sophia grimaced at him. Her eyes were definitely glowing red now. “You’re making me angry! Let me guess: you’re a firebender. Firebenders  _ always _ reject me!”

Merlin frowned and almost tripped over a root in his backwards quest. “Hey, don’t generalize! Most firebenders are lovely people!”

“Not you, and not that Firelord I’ve been seeing around here,” Sophia griped. “ _ She  _ wouldn't give me the time of day either!”

Merlin stilled. “Firelord?”

“Yeah! She comes here at least once a week; why can’t she spend time with me?”

“Once a  _ week _ ?” Merlin darted to the spirit’s side. “Sophia, she comes  _ here _ ? Why? What does she do here?”

Sophia raised her head and pouted. “Oh,  _ now _ you’re interested in me! Who is she, your girlfriend?”

“No!” Merlin sputtered. He could feel himself going red. “No! I just---”

Sophia grinned and shoved his arm playfully. “No need to play coy with me, Avatar! I see how it is.”

Her sudden change in mood left Merlin completely bewildered. Merlin shook his head and tried again. “Can you---will you take me to where she goes?”

“Hmm.” Sophia played with a strand of her golden hair again, smirking. “And what will you give me if I do?” She murmured, taking a slow step closer.

Merlin forced himself to hold still. Without bending abilities he might be in the Spirit World, but he was still the Avatar. That had to count for something here.

“I have a lot of influence with people in the human and spirit worlds,” he bluffed. “I can talk with Queen Mab, get you your old job back.”

Sophia’s eyes glittered. “You would do that?”

“Of course!”  _ I’ll chat with her the next time she tries to kill me _ , Merlin thought.

Sophia’s smile looked totally genuine this time. “I didn’t think you were even listening when I said that,” she murmured, slipping a hand up his arm. He almost fell over jumping back.

“Uh, well, let’s not be too hasty,” Merlin gulped, straightening his tunic as she giggled. “Aren't you going to show me where Mor---the Firelord went?”

* * *

The walk took longer than Merlin liked, all the way to the foot of a great rounded hill. He fretted, wondering if time passed the same in the two worlds. He had heard too many stories of spirit travelers dying while their bodies lay helpless.

“That’s where she would go.” Sophia pointed out a dark copse of trees not far from the path. The branches and leaves obscured whatever was beyond. “I will go no further.” Her grave voice held no trace of mirth anymore.

“What is beyond?” Merlin murmured. Something about the situation prompted him to whisper.

“The beginning,” Sophia answered simply. Merlin raised an eyebrow, but she shook her head. “We do not speak of it, Avatar. Spirits do not enter that place. Go on alone, or don’t go at all.”

He had no choice. “Thank you,” Merlin murmured, then turned his back on the fair-haired spirit and walked into the copse.

The sun disappeared behind a thicket of branches and leaves. Thorns snared the edges of Merlin’s uniform, and he had to fight his way through to a small clearing on the other side. A sheer rock face loomed up in front of him from the gloom. Barely visible, even as he crept closer, was a horizontal cleft in the rock, leading to a dark cave beyond.

Merlin peered into the darkness.  _ The beginning _ ? He wondered what Sophia meant by that.

Slipping through the cleft in the rock was the work of only a minute. Unthinking, he tried to create fire in his palm to see, but of course nothing happened. Merlin paused, biting his lip as he considered what to do. He didn’t want to blunder around in the dark and hope he found what Morgana had kept coming back to see.

After a moment, he realized he  _ could _ see. The light was faint, but it was there. A look around told him the faint light was emanating from crystals growing out of the rocks.

He wondered if glowing crystals were normal in the Spirit World. He hoped so.

The cave was huge, but cluttered with boulders, leaving a thin path winding through the rocks and crystals into the gloom.

Merlin gulped. “Too late to turn back now,” he muttered, and soldiered on.

Merlin’s hand brushed one of the crystals and for a moment he saw something else: a white blizzard, and a dark-haired figure sobbing in the snow.

He jerked back, looking at his hand and then the crystals.

“Ok, no touching,” he muttered, and walked more carefully after that.

An eerie, timeless sort of feeling stole over Merlin. He got the feeling he could have been walking for hours in this cave and not known it.

Some time later---he did not know how much later---the already large cave opened into a huge cavern. Crystals grew still from the soaring ceiling, but only in certain banded stripes down the walls. Merlin squinted around, wondering why the crystals only grew in certain places.

A thick stripe of crystals grew directly above him, and he examined the shape. Something familiar was emerging from the banded shapes.

He gasped. “It’s a rib cage!”

And what an enormous rib cage it was! It was larger by far than any building Merlin had ever seen, and it occurred to him that the hill he had seen was probably just the remains of some gigantic animal with trees growing on it.

“What  _ is _ this?” he murmured.

“Giant lion turtle.”

Merlin about jumped out of his skin. A white-haired man stood among the crystals, facing Merlin. For a moment, Merlin thought it was Anhora, but a closer look showed he was not.

“Uh, what?” he asked.

“The skeleton,” the man said, gesturing with a veined hand. “It is of a giant lion turtle.”

“I thought they were a myth!”

The man shrugged. “That’s all they are now. Once, however, they roamed in both the human and spirit worlds.”

Merlin let out a sigh, eyes lingering on the enormous ribs and spine arching above and around him. “Incredible . . . It’s sad though. The giant lion turtles are gone, and now the dragons are dying out . . .”

“Yes,” the old man responded, his dry, cracked voice conversational like they were discussing dinner. “I know you’ll try your best to save them, but I’m not sure it’s possible at this point.”

Merlin blinked and turned more fully to face him. What a strange thing to say. “Who are you?”

“My name is Taliesin,” the old man whispered. His voice echoed around the cavern. “But I am called by many names. Morgana knows me as the Puppetmaster.”

So, this was who Morgana would come to see. The title ‘Puppetmaster’ sounded familiar, and Merlin thought he might have overheard it as a guard in the Fire Nation. “Why does she call you that?”

Taliesin shrugged. “She’s under the misapprehension---as are many people---that I control destiny.” Merlin squinted at him. “I don’t of course. I  _ know _ the destinies’ of others, but I do not control them.”

“Are you trying to say you see the future?” Merlin asked slowly, wondering if he should make a run for it while he still could.

The corner of Taliesin’s mouth twitched up. “You have nothing to fear from me, Avatar.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Merlin replied, taking a tentative step forward. Really, it seemed that every spirit knew who he was! “If you are an ally of Morgana’s, I might have much to fear from you.”

“I am no one’s ally,” the other said, beckoning him closer still through the crystals. “And no one’s enemy. I only watch the crystals.”

Merlin gazed around the cave, eyeing the glowing crystals. “What do you mean?” he asked. “Why was Morgana seeking you out?”

“I see what the crystals show me,” Taliesin said, his voice dry as a cracked leaf. “I told Morgana her brother’s destiny. She set out to stop it, never once realizing that by sending you after Arthur she had all but  _ ensured _ it.”

Merlin stared. “You told Morgana where to find Arthur.” Taliesin nodded. “She tried to kill him! She’s  _ going _ to kill him!”

“And what would have happened if I had never told her?” Taliesin asked. “You would never have found him. Arthur would still be in the Earth Kingdom, hidden away as a chimney sweep. Perhaps the Air Nomads or the Northern Water Tribe would already be destroyed in Morgana’s quest.”

“What, you don’t know what might have happened?” Merlin snapped.

“I cannot see the past that never happened, Merlin,” the Puppetmaster responded, his expression unendingly patient. “Only the future that will be.”

Merlin clenched his teeth. Fury burned through his veins. “Then tell me how to save Arthur,” he demanded. “Tell what will happen, so I can rescue him, so I can rescue  _ all _ of them!”

Taliesin rubbed a hand over one of the crystals. Merlin could not tell what he was thinking.

“And what,” the Puppetmaster said, “will you give me in return?”

A chill swept through Merlin from head to toe. “I have nothing to give you,” he murmured.

“Perhaps,” Taliesin mused. “Perhaps not.” He drifted closer. Merlin forced himself to hold still. “The Firelord paid dearly for the information I gave her, as have all who visited this cave. What will you give me, however?”

Merlin thought of Arthur, Gwen, Lancelot, and the others and took a deep breath. “What do you want?”

“Look into the crystals and tell me what you see.”

Merlin blinked. “I thought  _ you _ \---”

“Tell me what you see,” Taliesin repeated.

Merlin frowned and glanced down at the crystals. He saw nothing and glanced back up to Taliesin in question. The spirit gestured at them again, face as unreadable as Thomas’.

At first, Merlin saw nothing. Something flickered at the edge of his vision, and he looked: water lapped around him, filling up the edges of the cave, rushing around with a roar that echoed in Merlin’s ears. Merlin gasped, but the water was suddenly gone, replaced by fire. A golden, scaly hide filled Merlin’s whole vision, and he could hear the roar of it breathing fire. The ground shook, and his limbs trembled.

_ Kilgharrah? _ he thought, but there was not enough time to make sense of it all. The fire swept away to reveal a desert, and Merlin jumped to see himself and Leon standing before him, tan, sweaty, and barefoot in the endless sand. The sand morphed into a familiar brown, gold, and green throne room where Mithian sat, pale and alone with her mother’s crown on her head.

The flashes came faster, barely allowing Merlin time see who, where, what. He stood in the snow, eyes glowing white, icy wind pouring around him. Gwen raising her hands and widening her stance to prepare for battle.

Water surrounded him again, only higher: it now reached his waist.

Merlin blinked. The water vanished. Lightning flashed around him. An old man with a white beard, clothed in a red robe, raised a staff above his head. There was something familiar about his eyes . . .

The man vanished and Merlin was surrounded by water again. It filled the whole cave. He could see Taliesin’s wavy outline through the dark, murky depths.

A splash: someone had fallen into the water. Merlin’s mouth gaped open in horror, only saved from drowning because the water was an illusion. Arthur sank into the depths, weighed down with ball and chain. His eyes were closed and his face was quietly accepting.

Merlin fell away from the crystal and scrambled backwards, gasping and coughing even though there had not really been any water. Taliesin watched with calm, knowing eyes.

“It was like---it was like---”

“Like you were there?” Merlin nodded jerkily. “An illusion.”

“And all those things . . . They’ll really happen?”

“Somewhere, somehow.” Taliesin bowed his head, dry voice deep and endless. “Even I cannot stop the futures I see.”

“Is that all you wanted me to do?” Merlin demanded. “How do I save Arthur?”

“No, that was merely a test,” Taliesin said. “You proved that you  _ can _ see in the crystals; a rare enough trait, I assure you. Here is my bargain, Avatar: I will tell you how to save the Firelord, and you may come at any time in the future to ask me questions. In exchange, you will come to this cave after your death and take my place as the seer in the Crystal Cave.”

Silence. Merlin thought he might have even stopped breathing for a moment. “How long have you been here?” he whispered. “How long would  _ I _ be here?”

“Take it or leave it,” Taliesin said.

“If I ask you more questions, you’ll answer them?”

“They may not be the answers you want, but yes, I will answer them.”

It wouldn’t take effect until after he was dead. Not a bad deal, Merlin supposed. He gulped. “Alright, I’ll do it. Tell me how to save Arthur and the others.”

Taliesin smiled. He looked intensely relieved, which was the most emotion he had shown so far. This did not set Merlin’s mind at ease. “It is not Arthur’s destiny to die, but he might,” the Puppetmaster said. “When the opportunity presents itself, you  _ must _ kill Firelord Morgana.”

Merlin clenched his teeth. “Before she kills him?”

“Or kills you, for Arthur cannot fulfill his destiny without you,” Taliesin said. “Arthur is the Once and Future King. He is destined to bring peace and unity to the Four Nations.”

“Kilgharrah said the same thing,” Merlin murmured. “But what do you mean, ‘Once and Future King’? Arthur is the Firelord!”

“It is an old, old prophecy, older even than me.” Taliesin bowed his head. “‘ _ In the lake look thee; there ye shall find he: The Once and Future King _ .’”

The image of Arthur drowning sprang to Merlin’s mind. “The lake . . .?” He struggled to think of lakes around the Fire Nation capitol and could not. “Could you  _ not  _ talk in riddles?” he begged.

“Then listen to this; perhaps you will find it straightforward.” The Puppetmaster leaned forward, his light eyes gleaming in the glow from the crystals. “You must learn to control the Avatar State as soon as possible. If you are caught unawares again, all will be lost.”

Merlin gulped. “Got it,” he said, remembering the destruction on the airship. He shivered to think that he would have to go back into the Avatar State again some time.

Taliesin smiled slowly. “That's all I can tell you for now, unfortunately. You’re needed back in your body. Execution morning is here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp, we're getting to the end, folks! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	26. L’Morte de Arthur

The sun rose over the rim of the caldera, just like it did every morning. Morgana stood at her balcony, soaking in the rays and breathing deeply. She loved how much easier it was to bend when the sun came out.

Morgause stalked in not much later, all but pushing Morgana’s maidservant aside. “Morgana, are you sure this is a good idea?” she demanded without preamble. “There’s still time to reconsider your deal with Mab.”

Morgana raised a perfectly-sculpted eyebrow. “Cheat the queen of the Spirit World?” she murmured. “I don't know what kind of death wish you think I have, Morgause, but I’m not breaking our bargain. Queen Mab has done her part.” 

She was glad she had never told Morgause about her deal with the Puppetmaster.

“Barely,” Morgause muttered. “Her Lamia failed to kill Prince Arthur at the Water Tribe, and she almost provoked the Avatar into destroying our airfleet!”

“And yet, we have the Avatar now,” Morgana pointed out, sweeping past the bloodbender into her suite. “Arthur will die today. All our plans are coming to fruition. And if Mab gets what she wants, we will have an ally with a formidable army.”

“Who will she turn that army against, I wonder?” Morgause said peevishly.

Morgana, already mostly dressed in her lightest formal attire, slid a sleeveless outer coat on over her other clothes and shrugged. “Why do you think I’m sending you with her?”

Morgause froze, barely coming back to life as Morgana swept past her cringing maidservant into the corridor beyond.

“I’m sorry,  _ what _ ? Sending me with her?”

They passed through hallways lined with flickering torches. “Of course,” Morgana said. “I should have thought it obvious. You  _ must _ go with Mab to the Southern Water Tribe. That way, you can keep an eye on her and Me---the Avatar.”

Morgause clenched her teeth and said nothing all the way down to the dungeons. Morgana stopped the guards at the door with a sigh.

“I thought you would have seen this as a sign of trust,” the Firelord pointed out, her voice hard. “There is no one else I would rather protect the Fire Nation’s interests.”

Morgause scowled. “Hang the Fire Nation! I’m here to protect  _ you _ ! I can’t very well do that from the Southern Water Tribe!”

Morgana lay a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “You  _ will  _ be protecting me, Morgause.”

She gestured for the dungeon door to be opened and strode inside. With her head held high, she was conscious of how impressive she must look: coat billowing behind her, long black hair pulled into a regal hairstyle. She knew she would need to look regal to impress Merlin. He always had gone weak in the knees for her formal attire.

Merlin sat limply in a cell at the furthest end of the dungeons. His eyes narrowed when he spied Morgana and Morgause approaching.

“Good morning, Merlin,” Morgana called through the bars, delighting in seeing him crouching exhausted at her feet. “I hope you slept well. It’s going to be a busy day.”

He leaned forward urgently. “You haven’t---the others---”

She caught onto his garbled meaning. “Your friends are still alive. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you have prime seating for that.”

Even behind the mask she could see his face pale.

“Now,” Morgana continued, “why are we discussing them when we could be talking about  _ your _ fate?”

“We have great plans for you, Merlin,” Morgause purred. Morgana reflected that the bloodbender could be all kinds of contrary in private, but she always came through when the time came to present a united front. “We’ve spent so long looking for you.”

“And yet you missed me when I was right under your noses,” Merlin pointed out. He was  getting over his shock and regaining his old snark. “So much time and money wasted!”

“Perhaps if you had told me in the first place, we wouldn’t have had to search.” Morgana’s throat hurt with the effort of keeping her voice light and unaffected. “Some people might be alive still.”

Merlin scoffed. “Right, because you  _ care _ about the Air Nomads. Did it ever occur to you they might have admitted to lying if they hadn’t been just as scared of you as they were of Uther?”

“How dare you speak to your Firelord like that!” Morgause hissed.

“If you think you were ever  _ my _ Firelord,” Merlin replied disdainfully, “you’ve got another think coming. Did you really think, after you conquered the Earth Kingdom--- _ my home _ \---I would be loyal to you? I’ve been against you since the moment I stepped foot in the Fire Nation!”

Morgana gaped at him. All those years with him as a firebender in the palace . . . all the talks they had had, the stories they had shared . . . all fake? She grabbed the bars. “You’re lying!”

Merlin leaned back slightly. “For once, I am not.”

Most of his face was hidden by the mask, but was that a gleam of regret in his eyes? Morgana straightened her spine. “Then you deserve everything that’s coming to you.” 

“What do you mean?” he murmured after an eerie pause. Morgana didn’t bother keeping the triumph from her voice.

“Queen Mab is going to take you away.”

He didn’t look particularly surprised. “Where will I be heading?”

“The Southern Water Tribe,” Morgause broke in, giving Morgana a look from the corner of her eye. “To Cendred and his hospitality.”

Merlin gaped. “You can’t just lock me up away from the war!” He leaned forward as far as he could go. “I’ll get free. I  _ will _ .”

“You’re not going to be locked up, Merlin,” Morgana snapped. “You’re going with Mab to the Southern Spirit Portal.”

Merlin said nothing for several moments while he processed this. “What can I do there?” he asked, his face horrified as if remembering something extremely unpleasant. “You can’t get another spirit to possess me; I already have Ra---er, the Avatar Spirit.”

“Did you know that Avatar Spirit was the one who blocked the Spirit Portals?” Morgana asked, trailing a finger down one of the bars. Merlin swallowed and shook his head. “And so the Avatar is the only one who can unblock them.”

Merlin gasped. “You’re going to bring the spirits over from the Spirit World . . . An army. A  _ spirit _ army.”

“Yes,” Morgana said. “I’m pleased you understood that so quickly. And you,  _ dear _ Merlin, are going to get us that army.”

Merlin bowed his head. Morgana thought he looked defeated and regretful. Well, good; let him feel the sting of his own betrayal.

“The guards will collect you for the execution shortly,” she told him, gathering her coat around her. “I expect you to stand behind me where you belong and watch these usurpers die.”

Sweeping around, Morgana almost completed her grand exit when Merlin called her name. She paused, Morgause hovering impatiently at her shoulder.

“I never wanted to betray you,” Merlin whispered. Even though her back was to him, she could imagine his wretched expression. “I’m sorry it has to be this way.”

_ Me too, _ she thought, but only stalked away. There had been something of resignation and finality in Merlin’s voice, and Morgana could not help but think,  _ What is he planning? _

* * *

“Merlin!”

Arthur woke up all at once. The cell was still mostly dark, but he could tell by the faint light from the window that it was past sunrise.

It took only a moment to see who had awoken him. Lancelot was pressed against the bars of the cell, looking farther into the dungeons. A great clanking and rustling came from where he was looking.

“Lancelot!” Arthur heard Merlin call.

“Quiet!” a guard snapped.

Arthur didn’t bother being gentle as he moved Gwen off his shoulder, and she woke with a groan. “Arthur . . .?”

Arthur made it to the bars just as they brought Merlin level to the cell. “Where are you taking him?” he demanded. Merlin was loaded down by far fewer chains than he had been, with only manacles binding his hands behind his back and a chain connecting his feet. There seemed to be quite a few guards with him, way more than Arthur would have thought were needed to escort even the Avatar.

“Same place we’re taking you,” Thomas said. “The courtyard.”

Three guards holding Merlin broke off from the rest and dragged him away. Lancelot called his name again, but he was soon out of sight.

The rest of the guards appeared to be to fetch the rest of them. One of them, Arthur could see, was the young, yellow-eyed firebender who had helped him on the airship before. The firebender gave Gwen a somewhat nervous look, and she watched him sympathetically.

Thomas unlocked the door quickly and roughly. “Time to go,” he said, and guards poured in to restrain the prisoners.

One of the guards from the airship, the older one who had helped Arthur, bound the Fire Prince’s hands behind his back. He gazed at Arthur regretfully, but said nothing as he pulled him from the cell.

Elyan, held securely by two guards, stood waiting from them in the corridor. He immediately turned to Gwen: “Are you alright?”

Arthur was alarmed to see Gwen looked ashen, but she answered in a steady voice. “As I can be, I suppose.”

Gwaine was doing better that morning, and only swayed a little bit as the guards took him from the cells. Lancelot moved closer so Gwaine could lean on him.

Arthur felt a sense of unreality. Was this really happening? He’d always been a realistic sort of man, but this---being escorted from the cell to the courtyard to be executed---refused to click in his head.

He looked around their group as the guards marched them out of the dungeons. Gwen looked pale but calm. Elyan’s head was bowed. Percival kept throwing glances over at Gwaine. Lancelot and Alator looked as they always did, if a bit scruffier.

Arthur wondered how he looked. Nervous? Worried? Ashamed? Angry? He certainly was  _ feeling _ all these things at once.

The guards pulled them to a halt at an entrance to the courtyard. “There’s a lot of people out there,” one of the guards muttered to Thomas.

The firebender’s face was impassive. “Break us a path,” he commanded.

They all stood there for a moment while the guards obeyed. Arthur’s heart thundered in his chest. He turned to look at Gwen beside him. She was watching him.

He took a deep, difficult breath. This was his last chance. “Gwen---”

She interrupted him, her eyebrows drawn together. “Arthur, lean down.”

Arthur blinked. “What?”

Gwen fidgeted with her hands, bound behind her back, looking frustrated. “Lean down,” she whispered again.

Confused, he obeyed and bent over. Was there something in his hair? This really wasn’t the time!

She met him halfway, pressing her lips fiercely against his. His reflexes almost propelled him backwards again, but he managed to first hold still and then respond as best he could with hands tied behind his back.

“Ugh! Great spirits,” he heard Elyan gasp from somewhere a million miles away. Gwaine said: “Thundering dragons in a thundering typhoon!” and he heard Alator sigh. “Is this  _ really _ the time?”

Gwen pulled away again and smiled softly. “It’s now or never,” she whispered, little tears glistening on her eyelashes. Several of the guards were biting their lips to keep from smiling.

Thomas rolled his eyes so hard Arthur almost heard it, lips pressed together. “Get them out there,” he muttered.

Lancelot, on Arthur’s other side, bumped shoulders with him, a slight smile playing his lips. Arthur could not quite manage a smile back, but as he entered the courtyard, eyes squinting in the brilliant sunlight, he found he could breathe just a little bit easier.

The palace courtyard was indeed crowded, packed so tightly the guards had to force their way through the muttering masses, dragging Arthur and the others along between them. The morning sun beat down, setting sweat beading on Arthur’s neck and upper lip. Legions of red- and black-clothed citizens watched as the Fire Prince stumbled towards the balcony. Arthur struggled to keep his head held high under the eyes of the people who had once been his people.

Morgana stood in the center of the balcony, with Morgause on her right hand and Merlin, flanked by three guards, at her left. Merlin’s eyes were closed just like they had been in Arthur’s dream, but when he raised his head and opened his eyes, they were the normal blue.

Arthur looked around for the chopping block, the fate of a non-bending criminal, but the crowd was so great he could see nothing.

“You have been convicted of treason,” Morgana said, unsmiling. Next to her, Morgause was smirking, but the Firelord Morgana stood as cold as ice and solid as stone, just how her hated father had stood for so many executions. “There is only one sentence I can pass.”

Arthur wondered if she knew how much like Uther she had become.

He kept his head up high. He would not show fear. He would  _ not _ . He owed his friends that. He would make sure their last view of them was of a Fire Prince who had been proud to live with them and, now, was proud to die with them.

Morgana made a gesture with her hand, and a pair of guards dragged Arthur forward.

Towards the pool.

Arthur’s heart stopped beating. Just for a second.

_ Of course _ , he thought.  _ Poetic justice. Kill me with what I’ve used to kill so many others. _

Behind Morgana, Merlin bowed his head, but Arthur could see he was still watching, his shoulders shaking.

On instinct, Arthur looked back at his other companions. Gwen and Percival were crying. They all watched as Arthur was taken away.

Arthur clenched his fists. His breathing quickened as he was taken towards the dark, menacing waters, but for them, he would not falter. He would not die for himself. He didn’t know how to have that courage. But for his friends? He would die for them.

He closed his eyes and let himself be led forward, let the guards attach chains to his legs, let them throw him in the water.

Water filled his nose as he sank. Despite the morning heat, the water was bitingly cold, and became colder as he sank. The light faded around him. His thoughts whirled, and he struggled to hold his breath for as long as possible.

He had fought for his friends, not for himself. Now, he would die for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last couple chapters should be up pretty soon :) Thanks for reading!


	27. Her Father's Daughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is uber-long, but I hope you enjoy!

“You have been convicted of treason,” Morgana said, her pale face and green eyes expressionless. “There is only one sentence I can pass.”

Merlin felt the words like a blow. He saw Gwen briefly close her eyes, but Arthur stood unmoving, his head held high.

“Morgana, please stop this,” Merlin murmured.

Morgana’s fingers clenched, but she made no other indication she had heard Merlin. She waved her arm, and the guards pulled Arthur forward.

Taliesin’s warnings flowed through Merlin’s head. Could he really save Arthur if he killed Morgana?

Only one way to find out.

Merlin could no longer watch Arthur’s stoic walk to his own destruction. He had to act now, but if Morgana realized what he was doing---disguising deep breaths as hopeless sobbing was not easy.

Merlin inhaled and exhaled shakily a couple more times. He heard a splash as Arthur disappeared into the pool.

_ It’s now or never _ . He took a breath and focused his energy on the air inside him. He hadn’t really thought about the process behind firebreathing when he had done it in the Earth Kingdom---he had felt so angry at Arthur it had just  _ happened _ \---but now Merlin could feel the air inside him heating up as he prepared to expel and ignite it.

He panicked for just a second. Was he really going to set Morgana on fire? Would it even  _ work? _

Arthur had been underwater for too long. He had to do  _ something. _

The guard holding Merlin grabbed his arm. “What are you  _ doing?” _ the guard hissed. He yanked Merlin back by his chained hands and punched him in the stomach. Merlin doubled over, all the breath whooshing out. He could hear Morgana yelling, but it was hard to concentrate over the pain. He hadn’t had the wind knocked out of him like that since his first training session with Nimueh.

There would be no deep breaths now. Merlin closed his eyes in despair, and now his shoulders shook with real sobs. He hoped Arthur had at least lost consciousness by now. It was about the only hope he had left in him.

“---worth ten times your miserable life---”

Merlin blinked tears out of his eyes and watched the guard cowering and apologizing at his side. A murmur of curious voice drifted up from the courtyard.

“I should have  _ you _ drowned,” Morgana snarled.

She whirled around. “Throw the next one in!”

Gwen was next. Merlin could hear Elyan pleading for her even from the balcony.

The ground shook. Merlin stumbled as the balcony swayed.

All eyes turned on Gwen, accusing, but she looked down at the ground with her eyebrows drawn together.

The pool exploded.

Soldiers and citizens screamed and backed away as water rained down on everything. Waterbenders streamed out of the dark pool, blue clothing wet and glistening.

Two of them held Arthur’s limp body. One stayed behind to tend to the Fire Prince, while the other was on his feet and decapitating soldiers before anyone could react. Merlin saw a white-haired waterbender cutting Gwen’s bonds. Alice? It had all happened too fast for him to comprehend.

The ground trembled again. Green-clad earthbenders broke through the cobblestones at every side, knocking firebenders onto their feet and trapping them in the stone.

Morgana roared in frustration. “Get him away!” she screamed at the guards, waving her arm in Merlin’s general direction. “Get him to the cells!”

“No, wait, please!” Merlin yelled, tripping on the chains connecting his ankles. “Morgana!” The fight slid out of his view.

Flames flickered on Morgana’s lips as she threw herself from the balcony. Merlin struggled again, his breath coming too fast to even think of firebreathing.

Merlin dropped to his knees and twisted. He was able to kick one guard’s legs out. The other guard backed away, which was the worst possible idea; Merlin kicked a huge gout of flame at him, then scrambled to his feet again. It was hard with his hands manacled behind his back and his feet chained, but he managed to make it most of the way to the staircase leading down to the courtyard below.

Pain exploded through his whole body, and he fell. He could not move. He could not blink. He could not even breathe.

_Great thundering dragons,_ _I forgot about Morgause!_

Merlin could hear the bloodbender approaching from behind, her footfalls barely audible. “Why are you running, Merlin?” she said softly. “Don’t you want to watch us destroy this insurrection? Don’t you want to watch your friends die?”

A thousand snarky comments rose to his lips, but he couldn’t get them to work. He thought desperately of Anhora.  _ Come on, come on, come on! Avatar State, yip yip! _

Nothing happened. Pain flared through his body again as Morgause forced him to sit up, then stand.

“You may be the Avatar, but you are weak and untrained,” Morgause snarled, “just like when you came to the Fire Nation. Nimueh always complained how hard it was to teach you firebenders. All of you had been trained by earthbenders; you didn’t take to the firebending ways. You thought about truth and mercy and all that, but none of you thought about doing  _ what needed to be done _ . How can you be the Avatar if you won’t even do what needs to be done?”

Tears ran from the corners of his burning eyes as he struggled to blink, to talk, to move  _ anything _ . His vision flashed white and black from lack of air. 

Morgause stood very close, her golden hair trembling as she struggled to hold Merlin completely still. “Are you prepared, Merlin? Do you even know what being the Avatar means?”

Even if Merlin had had the breath and brain capacity left to answer, he wouldn’t have had time. Two figures darted out of the stairwell, one raising a sword to slice Morgause in half.

She darted back just in time to dodge Gwaine’s blow. Merlin fell to the ground, gasping and pulling in as much air as he could. Elyan was at his side in an instant, yanking at the manacles. “What---?” Elyan gasped when they wouldn’t break. “Platinum---” He sucked his teeth. “I hate that stuff.” He slung Merlin’s arms, still chained, around his neck and pulled him to his feet. “Come on, we gotta go, we gotta go.”

Gwaine and Morgause were fighting. Morgause’s bloodbending was useless against Gwaine. She pulled water from the air into a circle around her and punched strands of it towards him; he avoided every blast. He knew her fighting style, but she knew his as well. In that moment, each moving seamlessly in a careful dance without choreography, Merlin finally believed they were brother and sister.

“Come  _ on _ , Merlin!” Elyan said, dragging him back towards the stairs. “She could use us against him if we don’t leave.”

“I wanna help . . .” Merlin muttered through numb lips.

Elyan looked back. “You can’t help him right now, Merlin. You’re needed elsewhere.”

“Arthur,” Merlin suddenly remembered. “What happened to Arthur?”

Elyan pursed his lips. “I don't know.”

They both almost fell down the staircase trying to get Merlin’s chained, exhausted self down it. When they reached the bottom, they found themselves face-to-face with a tall, dark-haired Fire Nation soldier Merlin knew.

“Pellinore?” he asked as their eyes met.

Elyan didn’t wait. He stamped on the ground and knocked Pellinore to his knees.

“Wait,  _ wait _ , please!” Pellinore yelled. “Please, I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Listen to him!” Merlin said, almost strangling Elyan as he tried to pull him back with his manacled hands still around the metalbender’s neck. “He’s a friend.”

Elyan pursed his lips, but pulled back the jagged rock he had raised.

Pellinore raised a trembling hand. “I think you’re gonna need this,” he said.

He held the key to Merlin’s chains.

“What, that’s it?” Elyan demanded disbelievingly. “You’re just gonna give us the key?!”

Pellinore bristled, then flinched as an explosion came from behind him. “Look, take it or leave it! I just thought you’d like the Avatar on your side for this madness!”

Merlin unslung his hands from around Elyan’s neck. Pellinore had always been kind to him, and, unlike many other Fire Nation citizens, he had no personal beef against Uther or Arthur. They would need to take the chance.

Elyan snatched the key from Merlin’s hands and began unchaining him.

“Oh, and Merlin?” Merlin raised an eyebrow at Pellinore. The guard raised a finger, managing to look threatening even rumpled and weaponless. “If you lose, I’m not the one who gave that to you, alright?”

Merlin bit back a smile and nodded. Pellinore swallowed and disappeared up the stairs.

Elyan watched him go with a raised eyebrow. “Smart man,” he admitted.

Merlin shrugged. “He’s friends with everyone.”

“And it looks like he has his fingers in many pies,” Elyan said, then surveyed Merlin’s unchained state. “You ready?”

Merlin answered by striding the last few steps into the teeming courtyard.

Madness reigned. The Fire Nation soldiers had started to give way to the waterbenders and earthbenders, but reinforcements poured in from every side. The ground was cluttered with dead soldiers and citizens.

Elyan let out a gasp and Merlin turned to see what had caught his attention.

Leon was facing off with one of Morgause’s waterbenders. After so many days of Leon being gone, it was a shock to meet him back in the Fire Nation.

The bender tossed a strand of water around Leon’s hand, encasing it, and yanked him onto his stomach. The water turned into ice and Leon yelled.

Merlin flexed his fingers. He didn’t need to be the Avatar to deal with this. Igniting a flame in his hand, he leaped forward and sliced his hand down. The ice flashed instantly into steam and the waterbender lost control. Leon yanked his hand free as Merlin attacked the waterbender. He recognized her as someone Morgause had been trying to train in bloodbending, but thankfully she didn’t try that on him.

He leaped and twisted to avoid the ice spikes she sent from every direction, while she was forced to dance back and forth to avoid his powerful blasts.

The ground shook and gave under Merlin’s left foot. He danced away as the rocks and stones melted into red-hot lava.

Mouth agape with horror, the waterbender fled. Mithian stood there with arms outstretched, the lava lighting her face from below in a way that was demonic.

“Sorry, Merlin,” she said conversationally. “I’m still learning how to control this stuff.”

He grinned, taking another step back from the lava. “No apology needed, Your Highness!”

Elyan finished off one opponent and turned back. “Leon! Where’d you come from? How did you know---?”

“The White Lotus! They knew about old lava tubes running under the city!” Leon yelled over the din.

“The White what?” Elyan asked, baffled. Merlin could have cheered. It had never occurred to him to wonder where the water in the pool came from, but lava tubes? He almost laughed. The pool that had almost been Arthur’s destruction had instead been his salvation.

Mithian turned to face a new threat. “Just ask Alice; apparently all old people know each other!”

Merlin blinked. “ _ What _ ?” but the princess and the Dai Li agent had already disappeared.

A blast of heat threw Merlin off his feet, and he landed painfully on his side. Soldiers surrounded him, fists and swords raised. Merlin flinched; he had never fought so many soldiers alone before.

Elyan was fighting his own battles, unable to help. Merlin raised his fists and widened his stance.

The soldiers attacked. Many of them were men and women Merlin had served side-by-side with. He clenched his teeth and whirled his arms to push them back with a wall of flames. The firebenders made it through, of course, but the non-benders were forced to back away, hands held up like that could protect them.

Merlin punched at two incoming firebenders and ducked to avoid a third. His sleeve momentarily caught fire, but he pulled the fire off and expanded it to attack a fourth opponent.

Merlin felt more than saw a blow coming from behind, a tell-tale movement in the air that had him leaning over and kicking his attacker in the chest before she could land a blow. He was too slow to stop the next firebender from punching him squarely in the face, however.

Merlin fell heavily, blinking stars from his eyes. The firebender backed up to bend properly. Merlin tried to push her back with a blast of flames, but the soldier simply threw it aside.

The other benders surrounded Merlin on every side. Merlin raised his hands sharply to blast them aside without warning.

Before his flames reached them, the ground rocked and cracked. Jagged stones pushed at the firebenders from below, forcing them back and away.

Merlin froze. He could not breathe. Had he done that? Had he gone into the Avatar State? Had he lost control again?

Gwen darted into his field of view, and Merlin relaxed.  _ She _ had done it. He had not lost control.

A hand landed on Merlin’s shoulder. His jaw dropped when he saw Freya, her bright green eye deeply slitted in the sun. 

“Merlin, are you alright?!” Freya cried. “Are you hurt?”

“Freya?”

With her help, he sprang to his feet. “You shouldn’t be here---” he objected, trying to grab her arm and push her back. She didn’t seem to hear, turning away from him to block a firebender’s blow.

The firebenders closed in around them again, but Merlin had Gwen and Freya by his side now. He was not afraid.

It was a six-to-three fight.  _ These are much better odds, _ Merlin thought as he blasted one opponent into a wall while fending off the other. Out of the corner of his eye, Freya threw looping curls of water at her two firebenders, forcing them to jump around like lemurs to avoid capture.

Gwen had gone into close quarters with her opponents, which was good for her bending and terrible for theirs.

Another firebender ran up towards Gwen, a young recruit Merlin had not gotten to know yet. Gwen’s eyes rose to meet the young firebender’s. Her eyes widened.

Her opponent saw an opening, raising her arms and bringing them down. Blazing curls of flame rushed towards Gwen, who had no time to step aside.

The young firebender’s eyes widened. “Look out!” he yelled, darting towards Gwen. He threw himself in front of the earthbender and pushed the blast away.

Gwen’s attacker fell back with mouth agape. “Owain, what---” She was forced to defend herself against his sudden attack, falling back into the crowd as he pursued relentlessly.

Merlin and Gwen watched him go with open mouths. She smiled slowly. “I guess one good turn does deserve another,” she said.

Merlin didn’t bother asking what that meant. “Where’s Arthur?” he asked without preamble. His heart thumped loudly in his chest.

“I pulled him from the water,” Freya assured him. “He’s alright, I promise.” Merlin closed his eyes in relief. “Merlin, what’s happening with Morgana?”

He hesitated. He had failed to kill her on the balcony, but he would have to try again.

Alice saved him from answering. Even as old as she was, her arms windmilled in near-perfect circles as she herded two soldiers through the crowd. Freya smiled, lines pulling at her eyes and mouth. “We would have been lost if it weren’t for Gaius, Alice, and their contacts in the Fire Nation. I thought you were joking when you said there were people here who supported Arthur, but it’s true!”

Merlin nodded, flexing his hands. “Arthur doesn’t believe it either, but it’s true.”

* * *

Morgana was avoiding him. Arthur was sure of it. For what felt like hours (perhaps it had been; time flowed fast during battles), he had been chasing her through the crowds and bodies and blood, fighting his way towards his half-sister and enemy. But whenever it seemed like he would get close, she would dispatch yet another opponent and slip away into the crowd.

She didn’t want to face him. To be fair, Arthur didn’t really want to face her either.

His hand clenched around Excalibur’s hilt. It comforted him more than he could say to have the sword back in his hand. After Freya had dragged him from the dark waters in the pool and cut his bonds, she had shoved the sword at him with a reproachful “I didn’t give you this sword so you could lose it, Arthur.”

Eventually, he found himself fighting side-by-side with Mithian and Percival. There was no time to inquire about where she and the other benders had come from---or where, for heaven’s sake, she had learned  _ lavabending _ \---so Arthur didn’t even try. He simply gave the two a curt nod and gripped Excalibur more firmly as yet another soldier came at him.

Arthur’s opponent fell, and the prince looked to his left. Gwaine was there, struggling against a huge Fire Nation soldier. The Tribesman had locked swords with the soldier---perhaps an unwise decision in retrospect---and was almost on his knees as the bigger man bore down on him.

Arthur did not hesitate. He darted forward and sank his sword through the soldier’s back. Gwaine pushed the body aside with a groan. Arthur was alarmed to see he was blinking heavily.

“I suppose I should say thank you,” Gwaine grunted as Arthur helped him to his feet. “Good to see you, Princess. Princesses, I should say,” he corrected himself as Mithian came up from behind.

“What have you been getting yourself into, Gwaine?” Mithian fretted, taking in Gwaine’s appearance.

“You need to be careful,” Arthur warned, eyeing the fight around them. “You’re still injured.”

“Never mind that,” the Tribesman insisted. “Where’s Morgause? I lost her!”

“You can’t fight Morgause like this!”

“And who’s going to fight her, Princess?” Gwaine snapped. “You?”

Arthur did not respond. He knew from experience that he could not fight a bloodbender.

“Thought so,” Gwaine said. He hoisted his sword up and started to move away.

Mithian grabbed his arm. “Let me come with you! I can help.”

Gwaine’s eyes widened. “No, Mithian. She’ll use you against me! I can’t---don’t. Just . . . stay here. Even this fight is safer than facing Morgause.”

Gwaine disappeared into the crowd. Mithian watched him go, eyebrows drawn together. Arthur shook her shoulder.

“We’ll see him again,” he said.  _ In some condition _ .

The battle had moved beyond the courtyard, soldiers spilling into the palace, up staircases and down hallways. There was no way to tell which side was winning.

Arthur knocked a firebender solidly on the side of the head. The bender fell, unconscious, and suddenly, Arthur was face-to-face with Merlin.

“Oh, uh---!” Merlin sputtered.

Arthur grabbed Merlin’s collar. “Get  _ down _ !”

A rock hurtled right through where Merlin’s head had been, slingshotted by some rogue earthbender. Arthur pulled Merlin upright again, holding his trembling arms until the Avatar---and didn’t it feel weird to think that?---felt steady again.

“You alright?” Arthur shouted. Merlin nodded, gulping.

“I’m  _ fine _ . What about you?”

Arthur felt someone coming up behind him. He turned swiftly and raised his sword in an upstroke. Excalibur clanged against Percival’s knife.

“Whoa, Arthur!”

“What’s the plan?” Mithian asked, coming up on the waterbender’s other side. “Do you have a plan for subduing all these firebenders?” She swept her hand around, raising an earthen wall to protect them from two sparring firebenders.

“Plan?” Arthur asked. “What plan? I thought I was going to die today! I didn’t have a plan beyond that!”

Merlin stepped closer, biting his lip anxiously. “We need to find Morgana. As long as she’s still around her soldiers will fight. And Morgause---I haven’t seen her, but she was fighting Gwaine last---”

“We’ve got to find them right away!” Mithian insisted. “If half the stories I’ve heard about Morgause are true---”

“What about Mab?” Arthur asked.

No one spoke for a moment. Merlin bit his lip.

“I haven’t seen her since the airship,” the firebender said slowly. “I have no idea where she is.”

Arthur clenched his jaw. The spirit queen could make things very difficult for them if she showed up suddenly with reinforcements.

“She doesn’t have an army though,” Merlin added, as if he had read Arthur’s mind. “Very few of her subjects are in the physical world.” He opened his mouth like he wanted to add something else but then closed it again, looking troubled.

“We should still  _ find _ her, thought,” Mithian concluded. “She would make a valuable prisoner.”

Percival backed away, his eyebrows coming together. “You and I can find Gwaine. Merlin, Arthur, I think---”

He never finished. The ground shook, and Arthur was almost blinded by a flash of white light. Thunder cracked all around them, and he put his hands uselessly over his head to protect it. Excalibur clattered to the ground.

When his eyes cleared enough to see, Percival was lying on the ground, clutching a smoking wound on his chest. Merlin fell at his side with a cry. Faintly, Arthur heard the waterbender growl. “--- _ Stop _ hitting me with lightning---”

Mithian’s hand clenched on Arthur’s arm, and he finally looked at who had shocked Percival.

It was Morgana. Obviously. She did not even seem to notice the battle or Mithian or Perciva or even Arthur as her eyes met Merlin’s.

She raised her hand, sparks flickering on her fingertips, and Arthur knew by her twisted mouth she was imagining stopping Merlin’s heart with one bolt.

Merlin let Percival rest back on the cobblestones and raised himself to his feet. “Try it,” he growled, his whole body trembling. “Just you try it, and I’ll kill you just like I killed Nimueh.”

Morgana's smile did not falter, but the sparks went away. She crooked two pointed fingers at him.  _ Come hither _ , those fingers said,  _ and we’ll end this. _

Merlin came. Morgana’s fire blazed out in an uncontrolled rush, roaring down the cobblestones to meet him. Merlin raised his arms up and then down, a focused blast of fire that cut neatly through her burn.

Everyone scattered. Arthur backed up several steps. He had never gotten in the middle of two firebenders fighting before, but this was Merlin and _ Morgana _ . He had to help!

Then again, it was  _ Merlin and Morgana _ , the Avatar and the Firelord. Perhaps he was better off elsewhere.

Fire Nation soldiers rushed out around their Firelord, ready to defend her flank. One of them was Thomas, and the way he fought and kicked his way towards the Fire Prince told Arthur he meant to end this, one way or another.

Thomas sent flames sweeping down on Arthur, and the prince dodged, all of Gaius’ anti-firebending lessons scrolling through his brain on endless repeat. “I don’t want to kill you, Thomas,” Arthur panted as he sidestepped another blow.

“You’re gonna have to if you want to live,” was all the firebender said.

Arthur dodged closer and grappled with Thomas, one hand holding Excalibur and the other pushing Thomas’ arm back. “We can work together! I want to make the Fire Nation a better place!”

Thomas elbowed Arthur in the nose, and he almost dropped Excalibur stumbling backwards. “I’m not allying with the man who killed my mother!” His wrist twirled as he aimed another spurt of fire at the Fire Prince. Arthur gasped as it almost got him, but he swung his sword, forcing the firebender back. He kicked out at Thomas’ knee, and the other man fell.

Arthur latched one arm around the firebender’s elbow and the other around his neck, squeezing tight. Thomas pulled, struggling, but he could not bend if he could not breathe. “Please, let me help you!” Arthur wheezed, feeling like he was the one choking. 

Thomas elbowed Arthur, hard, in the stomach, loosening Arthur’s grip just enough for the firebender to slip away. He still gasped for breath, and he had to fight Arthur with fists for several tense moments. Arthur raised Excalibur, but Thomas kicked it away.

_ Sorry, Freya, _ Arthur thought, ducking one blow and knocking Thomas to the ground with arms latched around the firebender’s waist. They struggled against the stones for a moment, Arthur trying to pin his arms, but Thomas had gotten his wind back. The prince was forced to throw himself to the side as Thomas ignited a vast fire in his hands and threw it.

It missed Arthur, but Morgana was right in its way. She barely saw it coming and put her hands up. The flames broke around her, and she was forced back several steps. The edges of her formal robes burst into flames and she beat at herself with a cry.

For just a second, Merlin had a perfect shot.

He took it.

Merlin’s arms twirled, gathering heat in front of him, then pushing it sharply towards Morgana. What hit her was not flames, however, but simply air. She was blasted off her feet into the nearest wall.

Merlin looked at his hands in consternation. Arthur rolled his eyes. Of course, the one time Merlin  _ wasn’t _ trying to airbend, was the time he did. Typical Merlin.

Arthur and Thomas swung to their feet at the same moment and circled each other. Arthur snatched Excalibur from the ground where it had fallen. Out of the corner of his eyes, Arthur could see Gwen and Elyan fighting synchronized like they had in the past, Lancelot flying overhead, soldiers struggling to hold the last bit of ground they could against the earthbenders and waterbenders. And the dead. Everywhere, the dead. So many dead.

“Thomas,” Arthur said, “help me stop this. All this killing can end.”

The firebender clenched his jaw and opened his mouth to respond, but someone else cut in.

“Listen to him, Thomas!”

Thomas looked out of the corner of his eye to see who had spoken. It was the young firebender who had been kind to Arthur on the airship. He stepped closer, hands held out beseechingly.

“Listen to him,” the young man repeated. “He’s come to help us! He’s the true Firelord; we should be helping him!”

Arthur’s mouth dropped open. Thomas’ lips curled.

“Have you become a traitor too, Owain?” he snapped. “Was Merlin not enough? This man destroyed our kind! Murdered us! And you would defend him?”

“I’ve seen enough to know I’ll give him a chance,” Owain replied. “Him, and his allies. Unless you’d rather let Morgana send us all into an unending war.”

“Stop this, Owain!” Thomas ordered. “Kill him! Stand by me!”

Owain step his jaw. “No.”

“You can’t disobey me!” Thomas roared, clenching his fists. “I’m your commanding officer!”

“Be that as it may,” Owain admitted, “my answer is still no.”

“Help me put a stop this, Thomas,” Arthur whispered. “Help me stop the killing. I want to help, but I need to know how I can help you.”

Tears dripped down Thomas’ face, but he kept his fists up and ready. “You can’t make this right,” he choked. “You can’t bring the dead back. You can’t pay for what you did.”

Arthur stopped and lowered Excalibur. “There’s hope for the Fire Nation still! The world doesn’t have to fear us any longer---not because of Uther, not because of Morgana, and not because of me!”

Thomas’ jaw clenched. “You can’t change the past!”

He threw himself towards Arthur. Owain leaped forward with a cry, and Arthur reluctantly raised Excalibur.

Another body crashed into Thomas before he reached Arthur, throwing him to the ground. The two landed with a crash of armor and a flash of fire. Arthur saw it was an older Fire Nation soldier, not a bender, with long gray hair. Owain darted forward and helped her to her feet.

Thomas scuttled backwards on his hands. “You too, Valdis? Is everyone ready to betray the firebenders?”

Valdis drew herself up, and with a start, Arthur recognized her. She had been in the Fire Nation’s guard before the coup, an old veteran in combat. “I’m ready to admit that everyone makes mistakes, Thomas,” she returned. “I know Arthur Pendragon, and I’d be more quick to trust him than that Firelord we have now.”

“We stand with you, Pendragon.” This came from an man behind Thomas, a blond soldier with a scarred face. “I’ve been waiting for you to come back.  _ We’ve _ been waiting for you.”

Arthur gaped. 

Thomas got to his feet slowly, surveying the three rogue soldiers before him. His face looked wet, and now just from sweat. His shoulders stooped. He knew he could not win. “You can’t change the past,” he muttered again.

“But I can change the future,” Arthur countered. The battle went on around them, fierce, fiery, terrible. The three soldiers circled around to flank him. “I despair of the past as you do, but I have hope for the future.”

And he realized that he actually did. Up until that moment, he had not believed that anyone in the Fire Nation save Merlin would support him. Three soldiers was a far cry from the whole country . . . but it was a start. It was more than he had dared to dream of. It was more than he had dared to hope for.

He gave Valdis a weak nod. Her lips twitched and she nodded back.

Thomas bowed his head. “Perhaps you have hope . . . Firelord. But I have none.”

He rushed Arthur, his last fires blazing even under the sun. Owain darted forward. Arthur flinched back, but he defended himself. Excalibur, already soaked with the blood of firebenders, cut through Thomas’s chest, and Arthur’s other hand, also soaked with the blood of hundreds---thousands---past, clasped the firebender’s shirt.

Thomas fell slowly, still impaled. It took him only a moment to die.

Valdis released her sword from its sheath. “Shame. He was a good soldier. I would have liked to have him by my side.”

“He said I killed his mother,” Arthur said numbly. He hardly knew what was coming out of his mouth.

“Mary Collins,” Valdis confirmed. “She was one of the last to be executed, before the coup.”

Arthur closed his eyes and bowed his head. “He’s right,” he murmured. “I can’t make things right. But I can be a better Firelord than my father was.”

“Now all we need to do is deal with  _ this _ Firelord,” Owain said, rolling his wrists in preparation. “She’s still fighting with the Avatar. Tricky.”

“I’ll distract her from behind,” the other soldier decided; Arthur still didn’t know his name. “I’ve got the most chance of surviving. Then Arthur can come up and take her out.”

“Good plan, except I’m the most experienced,” Valdis objected. She started forward, having made up her mind. “I’ll engage. You lot stay behind me.”

She made it four steps before Arthur’s hand shot out and stopped her. She raised her eyebrows at him. “My lord?”

Arthur was watching Morgana. She had not even noticed her soldiers defecting. She and Merlin were intensely focused on each other, detritus and bodies burning around them. Her pale skin and formal robes were dark with ash.

Arthur looked down at Thomas’ body. “We can’t kill her,” he whispered.

Owain stared. “What? She’s killed so many! She tried to kill  _ you _ !”

“We’ve got to stop killing each other,” Arthur insisted, louder this time. “I promised Thomas I would change the future, and I will. Starting today. Starting now.”

* * *

 

Sweat rolled endlessly down Merlin’ back and face, the sun beating down on him, the fire slowly raising welts on the skin of his hands and arms. He dodged and deflected blast after blast, hoping against hope that Morgana would eventually tire.

Merlin had only sparred with Morgana once before. He wished he was more familiar with her style. She fought with sheer power, like any good firebender. Her blasts rarely hit anywhere close to their marks, but their size and force pushed Merlin back with every move she made. He had hoped an earthbender’s rock-solid defense would work, but she was too powerful.

Morgana’s eyes narrowed with triumph. She could tell she was winning. A blast of flame twirled her up in the air, and then she rocketed down.

Merlin crossed his arms to block her blow, ducking his head down behind them. He readied himself for another blow, but it never came. Instead, Morgana twisted, a wall of flame blasting out behind her. Arthur had tried to sneak up on her. He managed to jump to avoid it, but the shock wave threw him to the ground. He did not move.

Merlin yelled and threw himself towards Morgana. She raised her hands to defend herself. Two walls of flame from both Merlin and Morgana blasted soldiers from all sides out of the way. Red flags and banners hanging in the courtyard burst into flames, mirroring the curling emblem on the cloth. Stones and swords blazed red within seconds. Sweat vaporized instantly.

The heat was so intense Merlin could only stand it for mere seconds. He released his blast and dived out of the way. Morgana released hers as well, tears of pain glistening in her eyes. Her hands were red and swollen. Merlin’s hands hurt so badly he could barely push himself into a standing position, but there would be no stopping now.

He threw himself at her, and she blocked, returned a blow. They were matched now, flame for flame, blow for blow.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw three Fire Nation soldiers crouching at Arthur’s side. They were checking if he was alive. Then what would they do? Finish him off?

The world slowed. Flames twisted around Morgana’s form. Merlin could feel the heat of them. He could feel just how easy it would be to pull the fire away and use it for his own purposes. Air and water swirled around him. Earth pulsed beneath him. Fire within him. All for him to command.

_ Step closer to her _ , someone said, and Merlin obeyed. He could feel the ground trembling with footsteps, heartbeats, voices.

_ Feel the life, _ came a whisper in his ear.  _ Raise the stones. No, not there---yes,  _ there _. Knock her from her feet. _

Morgana’s eyes flickered up to meet his. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open, all so slowly, so slowly. He felt her foot lift, felt her center of gravity shifting away from her. He didn’t need to think to know exactly which rock to shove up, which one would knock her off-balance.

Morgana fell on her back with a yell. Her cry was lost in the wind roaring around them.

_ Where did the wind come from? _ Merlin thought vaguely as he advanced on her. She was scrambling backwards, her breath coming out in pants.  _ It was calm before. _

_ We called the wind. _

_ Don’t you remember, Avatar? _

_ We raised it. _

_ The wind will blow her fire away. It will keep us safe. _

_ Destroy her. Take the elements. _

_ She enslaved our people. _

_ She destroyed the balance. _

_ We will restore it. _

Merlin thought:  _ Who is we? _

“Merlin! Snap out of it!”

Merlin blinked. His hand was raised over his head, a spear of ice poised to impale Morgana through the heart.

Arthur was the one who had yelled. He was sitting up with Mithian and the three soldiers at his side, clutching a burn on his arm. His eyebrows were drawn together.

He looked afraid.

It took Merlin a second to realize what had happened. Water cascaded over him as he lost control, soaking him from head to foot. From the back of his mind, Merlin thought he heard the fading echo of a thousand voices crying out to be heard. 

Everyone was watching him. Mithian gaped. Gwen’s gaze was sad, and Freya clutched at her arm.

Arthur started to his feet, hand reaching out to Merlin. Trying to reach him. To warn him.

Merlin barely reacted in time. Morgana blasted him backward with a shriek. He managed to block most of the flames, but he flew at least ten feet before rolling to a halt against a wall. Arthur yelled Merlin’s name. He heard Freya scream.

Swiping at the flames on his chest, Merlin struggled to stand up. That he was covered in water had probably saved his life. All his limbs shook with the effort. Morgana advanced on him, smirking.

“Even after all your betrayals,” she murmured, “you still can’t kill me.” A soft chuckle escaped her lips. “I have no such compunctions.”

Merlin swallowed and lifted his chin. “I don’t have to kill you, Morgana,” he breathed. “I just have to distract you.”

The tip of Arthur’s sword pressed against Morgana’s spine, and she froze. Her green eyes glittered as she glared at Merlin. For a moment, the three did not move: Merlin and Morgana staring at each other, and Arthur behind his half-sister, Excalibur poised to thrust home.

“If you’re going to kill me, Arthur,” Morgana breathed, “ _ do it _ .”

_ Do it, Arthur _ , Merlin pleaded inwardly.  _ Please don’t make me kill her _ .

“No.”

Merlin blinked and looked over Morgana’s shoulder at Arthur. The prince’s face was hard and unyielding, but he lowered his sword. The others, panting but recovering, watched with wide eyes. Gwen’s hands were clasped in front of her.

“No,” Arthur repeated, “I’m not going to kill you.” Morgana made a hissing sound. “I didn’t come here to kill you. I came here to save the Fire Nation.”

“I swear you’ll regret it if you leave me alive, Arthur,” Morgana snapped. Merlin agreed. Hadn’t Taliesin warned him to kill her? “You’ll regret it to your dying day.”

Arthur lowered his sword, shaking his head. “I---”

Gwaine came flying backwards through the doorway next to Arthur. The two fell into a tangle of limbs and weapons. Morgana whipped around to strike at Arthur, and Merlin launched himself forward. He caught her around the legs, and they both sprawled on the cobblestones. Gwen clenched her fists and raised a wall between Arthur and Morgana.

Morgause skidded through the doorway after Gwaine. Everyone, even the Fire Nation soldiers, collectively flinched away from her.

Morgana kicked Merlin away. Both of them were too exhausted to summon so much as a candle flame.

Morgause flicked a whip of water at Merlin. He rolled away with a groan. Gwaine staggered to his feet, raising his sword and blinking, but Morgause had wrestled Morgana to her feet. Gwen, Leon, and Mithian approached cautiously.

Morgause waved her arm, and the air in the courtyard turned dry and hot as she sifted the water out of it. She whirled her arms around her, spreading the water out into a wave---

Merlin threw his arms over his head just in time. The wall of water crashed into him, rolling his body over and over and over.

Trembling, shaking, Merlin raised his head. Arthur was sitting up on his knees, soaking wet, watching where Morgana and Morgause had been standing. The two had vanished.

Merlin sat up painfully, every nerve and muscle stretching and screaming. Arthur got to his feet very slowly, looking first at where Morgana had vanished and then twisting to observe the crowd around him. Every eye was upon him. Fire Nation soldiers, some free, some bound and injured, watched him warily. Gwen nodded her head at him. Mithian and her earthbenders watched him patiently.

Merlin heard Arthur take in a deep breath in and then let it out. The prince turned his head to look at Merlin, who was still kneeling on the ground. He looked a little lost. Merlin wasn’t sure what to say either, but he sat up straighter and watched Arthur with all the strength he could muster. This was the moment they had been waiting for.

Arthur turned back. “This fight is over,” he commanded, his voice carrying over the murmuring crowd. “Let’s help each other now.”

Somebody---Merlin thought it might have been Pellinore---shouted, “Long live the Firelord!” Not everyone in the courtyard echoed the cheer, but for now, perhaps it was enough to hope for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue left, now :)


	28. The End of the Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What?" you say. "She's posting another chapter the next day? Who is this?"
> 
> Point taken, but this chapter has been written for a couple months, actually! Hope you enjoy the epilogue!

"-and this poor man, with his cart _completely_ aflame, just falls to his knees and yells, 'MY CABBAGES!' Merlin, of course, just kept apologizing profusely."

Merlin folded his arms in embarrassment as Leon finished the story.

Arthur stared. "Wait-Annis asked Merlin to be a _spy_ instead of executing him on the spot?"

"Oh, she nearly did," Mithian snorted, struggling to control her laughter. Elyan was crying with mirth. "We thought he was another spy from Morgana at first, but then she figured that Morgana couldn't be _that_ desperate!"

"Hey," Merlin objected, "I managed for two years without being caught!"

"And you did a lovely job, Merlin dear," Freya soothed him, her mouth twisted in a smile.

"I should tell you the story of when Merlin and I first met," Arthur mused. Merlin coughed significantly.

"Arthur, need I remind you that I have in my memory a certain story about a vacation to the Sun Warrior ruins . . ."

Arthur gaped. "You traitor," he said. "You would _not_."

The conversation devolved into bickering and laughing again. Soon Arthur stood up to get a drink of water from the nearby well. They were sitting amid the almost cleared rubble of the palace's courtyard, enjoying an hour of well-earned respite from the almost non-stop work that had followed the coup. There hadn't even been a formal coronation yet, though most of the Fire Nation embraced Arthur's leadership. It had only been a few days; none of their company had begun heading back to their countries yet. Arthur was glad. He loved his country and his people, he thought as a group of children dressed in red and black rushed past him, but he was not sure if he was ready to be left alone with them yet.

The dark pool, ever-present, still sat in the corner of the courtyard, dark and foreboding. Arthur had decided it would always look malevolent to him.

Merlin came up behind him for water. "Any news on Morgana and Morgause?" he asked, his eyes squinted anxiously.

"None," Arthur replied, then paused. "None on Mordred either," he added.

Most of the high-ranking Fire Nation officials and benders had been caught, but some had escaped along with Morgana and Morgause. Old courtiers, soldiers, and some citizens had disappeared into the night, including Arthur's uncle, Agravaine. Arthur had been planning to question Agravaine about Morgana's plan, but also about Ygraine, Uther, and the life before the Purge.

He supposed it didn't matter. He didn't even remember his mother. Besides, it was a new day, a new age. Better to put the past behind him.

"What are you brooding about?" Merlin asked before taking a sip, his eyebrows drawn together as he watched Arthur.

"Just thinking about what the future will bring," Arthur replied. "The Fire Nation. You, as the Avatar. Everyone going home."

Merlin nodded slowly. "Lance wants me to go back with him to the Northern Air Temple, so that I can learn airbending. After that, it'll be to one of the Water Tribes."

"Northern, surely," said Arthur. "You can't leave Freya alone for too long." He winked and Merlin rolled his eyes. He was blushing.

"Besides, Cendred's still in power in the South; he doesn't like any of us too much right now." Arthur sighed. He _really_ wasn't looking forward to everyone leaving. He did have certain plans in place to see if Gwen, at least, would stay. "Even with all the work we put into freeing the Fire Nation, there is still much to be done."

There was gleam in Merlin's eye, contemplative, wondering. "What's is it?" Arthur asked. "You look like you're thinking-never a good sign."

The firebender did not even react to this jibe. "I was just-thinking about something I heard someone say . . ." he murmured, barely heard over the noise in the courtyard. Arthur raised an eyebrow. "There may be a lot of troubles still, and there will be more to come, but I think that you're going to be a great Firelord. There's a lot of hope for the future."

Merlin turned and walked away, leaving behind a confused Arthur. Where had that compliment come from? He wondered if he would ever understand Merlin.

The Firelord took a last swig of his drink, shrugged, and followed the Avatar to join their friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you have liked and disliked about this story, whether it be the plot, the characterization, the bending, etc. I'm always looking for ways to improve my writing, so please let me know what worked for you and what didn't.
> 
> You can probably tell that I have totally set this up for a sequel. You can probably also tell that I'm not a fast writer, however, so I don't know when that sequel will happen. In the meantime, please enjoy my other stories-and also take a look at my beta's profile, GeneralSan_3. She's a talented author!
> 
> That's all, folks!


	29. Cast of Characters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I am working on a sequel - I AM - I've decided to upload a cast of characters here, just for ease of reading. Keep watching for that next installment!

**Fire Nation**

Arthur: Nonbender/Firelord. Hid in the Earth Kingdom as a chimney sweep before Merlin roused him to action.

Merlin: Avatar. Raised in the Earth Kingdom, he went to the Fire Nation as a spy for Queen Annis before discovering his role as the Avatar.

Morgana: Firebender/Lightningbender. Former Firelord. Escapes with Morgause at the end of the story to an unknown location.

Gaius: Firebender. Was allowed to live by Uther during the Purge, but only if he taught Arthur how to defend himself against firebenders.

Hunith: Nonbender. Lives in the Earth Kingdom. Merlin and Will’s mother.

Thomas Collins: Dead. Firebender. Formerly Merlin’s partner in the Fire Nation Army.

Uther: Dead. Non-bender. Assassinated by Morgana.

Ygraine: Dead. Non-bender. Killed by Nimueh in a revolt when Arthur was very young.

Balinor: Dead. Firebender. Died helping Hunith and Merlin escape the Fire Nation.

Nimueh: Dead. Firebender/Lightningbender. Killed by Merlin/Sigan.

**Earth Kingdom**

Gwen: Earthbender. Blacksmith. Never intended to get caught up in all this mess, but the course of true love never did run smooth.

Elyan: Earthbender/Metalbender. Blacksmith.

Leon: Earthbender. Dai Li.

Mithian: Earthbender. Princess of the Earth Kingdom. Annis and Caerleon’s daughter.

Annis: Earthbender. Queen of the Earth Kingdom.

George: Earthbender/Lavabender. Servant to the Disir. Quiet and unassuming.

Will: Nonbender. Merlin’s half-brother.

Anhora: Dead. Previous Earth Kingdom Avatar.

Caerleon: Dead. Earthbender. Previous King of the Earth Kingdom. Annis’ husband and Mithian’s father. Killed when Morgana attacked the Earth Kingdom during Sozin’s Comet.

**Air Nomads**

Lancelot: Airbender. Northern Air Temple.

Elena: Airbender/Spiritwalker. Northern Air Temple. A spirit traveler. Lost her arm in a fight with Sarrum.

Mordred: Airbender. Western Air Temple. Was told he was the Avatar and ran away when he found out he had been lied to.

Iseldir: Airbender. Head monk of the Northern Air Temple.

Alator: Airbender. Head monk of the Western Air Temple.

Cerdan: Dead. Airbender. Mordred’s father.

**Water Tribes**

Gwaine: Nonbender. Southern Water Tribe. Morgause’s brother. Resistant to bloodbending.

Percival: Waterbender. Northern Water Tribe. Gwaine's cousin.

Freya: Waterbender/Spiritbender. Northern Water Tribe. Gives Arthur an ancient sword made by her great-grandfather, Avatar Cornelius Sigan.

Morgause: Waterbender/Bloodbender. Southern Water Tribe. Gwaine’s sister.

Olaf: Nonbender. Chief of the Northern Water Tribe.

Vivian: Waterbender. Northern Water Tribe. Olaf’s daughter.

Cenred: Waterbender. Chief of the Southern Water Tribe.

Alice: Waterbender/Spiritbender/Healer. Gaius’ former flame. She lived in the Fire Nation for many years but hid her bending.

Isolde: Waterbender/Swampbender. Currently living in the Earth Kingdom.

Tristan: Waterbender/Swampbender. Currently living in the Earth Kingdom.

Cedric: Dead. Waterbender/Spiritbender. Freya’s brother.

Cornelius Sigan: Dead. Previous Water Tribe Avatar. First Avatar to master metalbending. Created Excalibur. Freya and Cedric’s great-grandfather.

**Other**

Kilgharrah: Dragon. Lives in hiding in the Earth Kingdom.

Aithusa: Dragon. Born in an abandoned gold mine in the Earth Kingdom and is known as the “white goddess” by the villagers.

Mab: Queen of the Spirit World. Morgana makes a deal with her to fight on her side in exchange for opening the Spirit Portals.

Taliesin: The Puppetmaster. A spirit-seer in the Crystal Cave.


End file.
